


I Am Spider-Man One-Shots

by Accio_Me



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Identity Reveal, Michelle Jones Is a Good Bro, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Secret Identity, Spider-Man Identity Reveal, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:33:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27191113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Accio_Me/pseuds/Accio_Me
Summary: Yes, I have started writing Spider-Man fics and I love it! This is a collection of identity reveal one-shots. The chapters can be read separately, as they won't be connected plot-wise.
Relationships: Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 5
Kudos: 86
Collections: Spider-Man Public Identity Reveal





	1. Parker Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter really had the worst of luck and it didn't seem to let him live his life anytime soon... Until he collapsed on a fire escape of a certain apartment...

**Parker Luck**

It was a relatively calm night. The wind was cool, the sky clear, and the citizens of New York City peaceful. He would even go so far to say that it had been one of the most relaxing nights patrolling so far if it wouldn’t be for the bleeding hole in his side.

Peter hissed as he shot yet another web onto a building, propelling him forward. 

He couldn’t believe what his life had come to. Before the spider bite, his infamous Parker Luck™ had already been bad, but now? Someone out there had too much fun giving an innocent, enhanced teenager an enhanced spout of bad luck that just wasn’t ending.

Ever.

But he figured, as he bit down a groan that would have made it just too blatantly obvious for him to ignore that there was indeed part of his belly missing, that he’d just have to accept it, as there was no way in hell that this part of his life would be improving any time soon. Why would it, really? Karma was a bitch and although Peter didn’t have any clue what he could have done to get messed up that bad, over and over again, he couldn’t bother to really think about it.

The night had started just like any other night, really. Well, like most other nights. He had donned his suit after he had finished his calculus and American history homework, had been greeted by Karen, his trusty AI, and had jumped out of his bedroom window. May was working a double shift at the hospital like she had done most of this month, so he used the opportunity to check out New York’s crime scene, and he hadn’t been disappointed.

He had been sitting on the roof of an apartment block, feet dangling over the edge when his sensitive ears had picked up a rumble somewhere far in the east. His back had straightened as he had strained to listen. It hadn’t taken much for him to hear distant screams, and off he had been - jumping off the roof with so much momentum that he had very nearly crashed face-first into the building across the street, he had webbed his way through alleyways and beneath bridges to get to his destination.

And that was when everything had gone downhill.

“ _Peter, are you sure that you don’t want me to call Mr. Stark?_ ”

Karen sounded worried if an AI could even sound worried. Peter wasn’t entirely sure that that was a thing, but then again F.R.I.D.A.Y., Mr. Stark’s AI, managed to convey smirks through her robotic voice, so why not Karen? Also, he had always thought that F.R.I.D.A.Y. sounded Irish for some reason.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Peter ground out. His left arm strained as his muscles worked to keep the pressure of dangling off a thin strand of webbing off his throbbing side. “It’s fine. I-I’m fine. I just need to lie down and not move anymore. Like. At all. Ever.”

The silence that followed felt judging. Peter couldn’t help but snicker and immediately regret it as the muscle contraction jostled his belly more than was good at the moment.

“Shit,” Peter groaned and hurriedly shot another web to keep himself from plummeting to the ground like a wet sack of bleeding potatoes.

“ _Language, Peter_ ,” Karen said as he whizzed around a corner, nearly hitting the building to his right in the process.

A huff escaped the swinging superhero as he fought to not roll his eyes. “Careful, Karen,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. “You might turn into Cap if you’re not careful.”

“ _Wouldn’t want that to happen, now do we?_ ”

Peter snickered at his AI’s sassy response. He didn’t know what exactly Mr. Stark had done with the programming that Karen felt _that_ human, but he had to remember to thank him for it. And ask him how he’d done it. He had thought about writing his own AI for quite some time now. Not to replace Karen, goodness no, but maybe he could build something that required an AI? Like maybe a little robot that would follow Mr. Stark around and remind him to feed himself and take naps sometimes? That would be wicked!

“ _Peter, watch out!_ ” But the warning came too late as he felt metal dig into his stomach and push all the air out of his lungs.

Wheezing, he gripped onto the metal rail to keep himself from causing even more damage to his already damaged body and proceed to slip and fall into the very dirty and very stinky alleyway beneath him. “Oh, bloody… ugh.”

Cautiously, he crawled over the hindrance and let himself drop onto what seemed to be a fire escape outside a window with its shades drawn. Thank everyone and everything in existence that the curtains were drawn and he hadn’t alerted any citizen inside the flat to come out and see a squashed arachnid laying sprawled out on their fire escape.

“ _Are you sure that I shouldn’t contact Mr. Stark?_ ”

Karen, the worrywart. Peter slowly shook his head from side to side. “Positive.” He took a deep breath and tried to lie as still as possible to not irritate his already wrecked side even more. “I’m just gonna lie here for a bit. Like a minute or two. Or an hour. Or two.”

“ _You could be seen._ ”

Yes, he knew he could be seen, but the curtains were drawn and the other side of the alleyway was nothing but a huge brick wall and he’d be fine and he could just lie here and not do anything but breathe for a week and it would all be fine and his healing factor would kick in and then he’d web his way back home and sleep for a month.

“ _Calling Tony Stark.”_

“What? _No!_ Karen! Abort!” Instinctively, he shot up into a sitting position, only to collapse again with a loud groan. “I said don’t call him. I’m fine, it’s just a scratch. I’m just taking a breather here, nothing to worry about. I’ll web my way back home in a f-”

He froze as a familiar tingle shot up his spine. “ _Shit_!” he hissed and this time Karen didn’t reprimand him for his choice of words. She turned on the heat sensor, scanning the apartment with the drawn shades without Peter telling her to, and he was silently thankful for that. He saw the scanner work in his mask’s lenses and didn’t dare move. 

It felt like ages until the crisp voice of his AI reached his ears. “ _Heat signature detected._ ”

Peter cursed under his breath, neurons firing at a dizzying speed. What should he do? Did they hear him crash into their landing? Would they hear him if he were to web his way out of the alleyway now? No. Well, yes, maybe. Probably. He was injured and wasn’t as light on his feet as he usually was. He _crashed_ into the railing of a _fire escape_ that was located right at the _side of a building_. If it hadn’t been for the metal construction, he would have been a squashed spider stuck to the brick wall of the apartment block. And Karen would have told F.R.I.D.A.Y., who would have told Mr. Stark, who would have made sure that Peter would never hear the end of it. Until the day he died. And probably even after that. Mr. Stark would find a way.

So, he opted out of the _flight_ part of his _fight or flight_ instinct and decided to trust whoever was watching. Now it was time for his bad luck to make up for everything that had happened so far.

And that was when Parker Luck™ struck again.

The heat signature moved through what seemed to be a hallway, turned to their right, and entered the room that had the drawn curtains. Peter didn’t dare move or even breathe as he watched the person come closer and closer and reach for the shades and - 

Peter gaped at the curly head of brown curls that peeked through the curtains out into the night, her intelligent and slightly suspicious eyes set on his pathetic, cowering self. “ _MJ_?”

Thankfully, Michelle Jones did not have super-sensitive ears or an open window, otherwise, Peter would have just ruined both his wobbly and odd friendship with said girl as well as his secret identity, which wouldn’t have been that secret anymore. Parker Babble Mouth™, how can I be of service?

He gulped as his crush reached for the window latch and pushed it open in one go. Should he act as if he was unconscious? Would she just leave him lying outside her bedroom (gulp) window and go to bed? No, she wouldn’t be fooled that easily. But it was worth a try, wasn’t it? If he just closed his eyes now and -

“Are you okay, Spidey?”

Peter blinked up at his worried classmate. She was leaning out of her window, stomach resting against the window sill, the gentle breeze softly moving her curls around her frowning face. She was so pretty! Baggy, washed-out shirt, no necklace, no make-up... Wow, he couldn’t wait to tell Ned!

“Can you move?”

Peter’s mouth was opening and closing without anything coming out. His vocal cords had failed him. Also, it was getting increasingly more difficult to breathe properly. Damn it, maybe he really should have let Karen call Mr. Stark...

“ _Should I activate Interrogation Mode?_ ” Karen asked, pulling him out of his trance.

“No, it’s fine,” Peter mumbled, not wanting to warp his voice into a horrific and slightly traumatising growl. And maybe, just maybe, a small (or bigger) part of him wanted her to find out. MJ was clever, brilliant even, and it was a miracle that she hadn’t found out yet. Granted, they weren’t spending _that_ much time together, but she was very observant as she liked to point out herself. And, if he thought about it, Ned wasn’t the quietest when whispering, so it clearly was just a matter of -

“What’s fine?”

Peter jumped and hissed as his wound reminded him of why he was currently lying on MJ’s fire escape in the first place. The painful throbbing increased and it took everything out of him to not groan out loud. “No, I mean, yes, I can move, sorry.” Babble Mouth™ in full action. Shut the hell up, Parker, you’re making a fool of yourself. Play it cool. You got this. She doesn’t know it’s you.

MJ looked at him for a few seconds, face oddly devoid of emotions, before she pushed her left leg out of the window and started to make her way out onto the metal stairs he was still perched on, not having moved an inch since he had let himself collapse onto them. 

Peter felt his eyes grow bigger and bigger, and MJ was sure to have seen his reaction as well, as his suit’s lenses mimicked his eyes’ movements to the tee, which was amazing for the comic relief, especially when dealing with traumatised children, but in situations like this… Well, she wasn’t saying anything about it, so he swallowed and took a deep breath. Once she was standing on the fire escape, she crouched down and crawled over to where Peter was lying. Silently and very slowly as if not to make him jump, she raised her hands and prodded around his stomach, looking at the damage.

Peter gasped and forced himself to not move away from the girl.

“Sorry,” she whispered, eyes set on his wound, as her delicate fingers gently lifted his suit’s fabric out of the pool of blood that was his side.

Peter didn’t know what was happening. Here he was, not really able to move much, with MJ scrutinising his battle wound, not knowing she was staring at her dorky classmate who talked too much and loved Star Wars. This was so weird that it felt like an out of body experience. It was a fascinating and slightly concerning feeling. In his English class with Miss Davis, Peter had often read about characters describing how he was feeling right now, and to be honest, he hadn’t entirely believed that stuff like this existed, but here he was, feeling aloof and oddly dizzy. Which, he figured, wasn’t a good thing considering the reason for his high probably being his body’s reaction to the blood loss. Hm.

“Let’s get you inside.” Her quiet voice pulled him out of his jumbled reveries. It took him a moment to understand what she wanted.

“W-What?” Smooth, Parker, back to stuttering, I see.

“Let’s get you inside, come on.” And without further ado, MJ, brilliant and strong and beautiful and _scary_ MJ, reached forward, grabbed him under his arms, and started dragging him towards her open window.

“W-What’re you doing?” Peter squealed and tried to keep his side from rubbing against the metal flooring. _Ow!_ Oh God, Ned could never know about this! “S-Stop. I-I c-can move o-on my own!” Ouch! That hurt!

She stopped dragging him across sharp metal bits and raised her eyebrows. As if to challenge him. Was he entirely sure that she didn’t know he was Peter? Well, yeah, of course. She would’ve said otherwise, right? _Right_? Yeah, she would’ve. There was no way she knew it was him.

And so, as if to prove her wrong and himself right, he wiggled out of her grasp and slowly, cautiously, stuck to the wall to pull himself into a standing position. It was liberating to just act like himself and use his powers. One of the many reasons why he loved being Spider-Man. When he was in the suit, he didn’t have to pretend to be the weak Peter Parker, who got pushed around and laughed at. He could just be himself. 

The world around him spun, making him feel even dizzier than he already was. But he was standing out of his own strength, stuck to the wall, breathing. Just. Breathing. In. And out. And in, and -

MJ, who had climbed back into her room when he had been busy not fainting from the pain radiating through his whole body, was waving at him to come to her window. Slowly, he made his way over there. One foot in front of the other. Lungs expanding, warm breath leaving through his nose. He could do this. Warm hands gently grabbed him around his upper arm and back, guiding him through the small opening and into heavenly warmth.

As soon as he set foot into her room, his senses were being flooded with _MJ_. Everything smelled like her, slightly floral and something else he couldn’t quite place, and he allowed himself a moment to just look around. He had to bite his lips to not laugh out loud as he saw the sheer amount of books stacked on top and in front of literally everything that this room held - bookshelf, desk, chairs, window sill, floor, dresser, _bed_. The last of which she hurriedly cleared before she came back to where she had left him standing.

“Come on,” she repeated and slowly guided him towards her bed. By now, Peter’s brain was so busy forcing his body not to faint due to blood loss that he didn’t show any reaction as to where she was pushing him down onto, which played in his favour, really. If he had fully registered just what was happening, he would have positively freaked out, but all he could think was _soft_ and _that smell_ , so he didn’t move as MJ turned away from him and hurriedly left the room.

He was lying on his back, eyes fixed on the ceiling, staring at a spider web, and mused where its inhabitant had gone to. He had never really liked spiders, had always been afraid of them if he were completely honest. Which was ironic if you thought about his general theme he had going for, with crawling up walls, swinging on webs and his overall Spider Aesthetic™. He had never told anybody, not even Ned, but he suspected that Karen knew. Karen knew everything, it was kind of creepy. 

He gently tapped his feet, an unconscious habit of his, and he stopped immediately as soon as his brain restarted and noticed. His feet were still touching the ground, his knees bent at a right angle right at the edge of the mattress. He really had to be cautious with MJ around and him wearing the mask. Hmmm… This was nice, he thought distractedly. He turned his head to the side, masked cheek pressing into the fluffy comforter, and inhaled the clean scent of laundry detergent and MJ. 

He had never been in her apartment, let alone her bedroom, but who would have thought that everything it would take to see all of this was a fight with an overgrown lizard and a hole in his side? He certainly wouldn’t have. MJ wasn’t someone who willingly invited people into her private life so that she was even talking to him at school was a big, big compliment. At least so he was telling himself because this was MJ he was thinking about, and who knew what went through her head?

After what felt like three milliseconds, but was most likely about three minutes, MJ hurried back into her room, closing the door behind her. Peter opened his eyes, not having noticed closing them, and saw that she was carrying a medium-sized box to the bed. The mattress dipped beneath him as she sat down and shuffled over to his side.

“C-Can you maybe - um - t-take off the top of your suit?” MJ stuttered. Peter blinked stupidly. He had never heard her stutter in such an insecure and adorable way. Scratch that, he had never heard her stutter. Period. His heart started beating faster and he could feel a weak blush creep up his neck. He had probably lost too much blood for the good old tomato-worthy blush, and he was oddly thankful for that. He was still wearing his mask and wouldn’t be taking it off anytime soon, but it wasn’t helping his self-confidence to _know_ that he was a beet-red mess underneath it, so this blood loss thing had its perks. Sure, he could faint any moment now, but he had never been much of a worrywart, so he tried to see its advantages.

“M-My…”

“I need to clean your wound.”

“Oh, of course, sorry.” Sluggishly, he raised his right arm, the one that had just rested right next to MJ’s knees, and let his hand drop onto the spider emblem on his chest. His suit grew in size until it looked like it belonged to the Hulk (or at least to Thor. Mr. Stark constantly told him that he had a thing for exaggerating things). Slowly, he started to wiggle, trying to get it off his torso without having to move too much, as to not aggravate the already aggravated wound even further. A pained groan escaped him as he had to lift his shoulders off the bed to get the fabric out from underneath them. All the while, he didn’t notice MJ’s eyes growing wider the more skin he wiggled free. He didn’t notice the blush either, which, at that moment, was good, as it would have turned him into a right mess, and would most likely have ended with him blabbing all of his secrets into the open.

After what felt like a painful eternity, Peter let out a relieved sigh and flopped back onto the mattress. He didn’t even _want_ to know just how bloody and icky the mattress had gotten from that little stunt just now. Frankly speaking, his brain just couldn’t handle worrying right now as it was wholeheartedly (or wholebrainedly - was that a word? It should be!) tried to keep him awake, which was getting increasingly more difficult as the seconds ticked by.

Peter was busy breathing, so MJ’s hesitation was completely lost on him.

“So,” she said as she opened the metal box and started rummaging around it. “What did you get yourself into to get mauled like this?”

The light above the bed made him wince. Had it been that bright a minute ago? “Lizard guy.” His response was slightly slurred, his lips not wanting to move properly.

MJ, armed with a bottle of alcohol and a fist-full of cotton balls, frowned at him. “Lizard guy?”

“Yeah,” Peter hissed as something cold and _burning_ ( _Ouch! What the hell?!_ ) touched his side and rubbed against his bloody skin. “There was this… this dude… he was green. And huge.” He sniffed, gaze wandering lazily through the room, trying desperately to stay awake. His eyelids wouldn’t have any of it, though, as they kept drooping the longer he lay still. Aunt May always said to keep talking if you needed to stay conscious, even if your body told you to just faint already. “Oh, and he had a tail.” So, that was what he did.

The few seconds of silence that followed were only disturbed by the soft sound of soaked cotton balls falling onto a metal tray.

“How do you know it was a ‘he’?”

Peter blinked, forcing his eyes back open. That had been the second time he hadn’t noticed them closing on their own, which really wasn’t a good thing. He needed to rest for his healing factor to kick in and get his body back to normal. Without the adrenaline that his heart had pumped through his body during the fight, or even during his way here, it was difficult to stay awake. “B-Because… well…”

“It could’ve been a ‘she’, you know? Or a non-binary person. If they didn’t specifically tell you outright what they wanted to be addressed by, we should keep it neutral.”

He couldn’t help but grin at that response. He didn’t know why, but her reaction had just made her even more awesome. Almost everyone who he met on the streets as Spider-Man was starstruck. They started stuttering and blushing, giggling and asking for pictures, but what did MJ do? She criticised him for using the wrong pronoun, not caring at all that he was a superhero who frequently talked and interacted with at least one of the Avengers. She was just… MJ. 

Wow. She was incredible and scary and incredible, but _scary_ , oh, he really, _really_ liked her. Like really. Seriously. He liked her a lot. A lot, a lot. 

A hiss escaped him as she pushed a wet cotton ball a bit too deep into his wound. “Oh, sorry.” Ok, maybe he didn’t like her _that_ much… Oh, who was he kidding? “I didn’t mean to do that.”

Peter just exhaled slowly and forced himself to relax. He couldn’t really do anything right now but lie on her bed, stare at the ceiling, and hope that he wouldn’t fall asleep. Or faint. He should get out of here as soon as she was done patching him up. In his delirious state, he was sure that he’d somehow reveal his identity without meaning to. MJ was clever; the slightest slip-up would be enough for her to figure it out.

“Ok, I’m done.” Her voice reached his ears as his eyes had started closing again. “You shouldn’t move too much within the next few days. I’ve cleaned your wound and have tried my best to stitch it up, but I’ve never done that, so it isn’t the prettiest. It should do the job, though.”

“Thank you, M- Ma’am.” Damn, that was close! He needed to get the hell out of here or he’d mess up!

“What are you doing?” MJ sounded annoyed and he really hoped it wasn’t because he had called her ‘Ma’am’ like some socially awkward idiot.

He had sat up, his left hand gingerly covering the fresh bandage on his side while his right was reaching for his suit that was resting around his hips. He froze in the movement, eyes big as he stared at her. “Um, getting suited up?”

“And why?”

Peter blinked. Why? How was he supposed to answer that? Was that a trick question? It had to be! Right? She wouldn’t want him to stay half-naked, right? In her room? No, she wouldn’t want that. Well, the closer he looked at her, the more he noticed the pretty blush darkening her cheeks… No, stop that, Parker! Concentrate! And answer her question!

“I need to leave.” Smooth.

“You’re going nowhere!”

Peter gaped at her, shocked. Overwhelmed. Confused. Slightly excited. Ok, _very_ excited, but mostly intrigued. He didn’t say anything and figured he should just give her the time she needed to get her reasoning out in the open. She couldn’t lock him in her room, after all. He could punch himself through the walls if he really wanted to and he knew that she knew that. So…

“You really need to rest, Spider-Guy.”

“Spider- _Man_.”

“You shouldn’t walk around with that wound still fresh and slightly bleeding. The stitches _will_ come out.” She took a deep breath as if she was arming herself for something. Preparing herself to fight. God, she was awesome.

“I should really go,” he tried one last time. He didn’t want it to get awkward between the two of them. She wouldn’t know it was him she had stitched up and forced to sleep in her room when they went back to school on Monday, but he’d know and he wasn’t the best actor. Mr. Stark had told him so repeatedly, so disaster would be waiting around literally any corner. He would stumble over his words and basically tell her who he was. Which wasn’t what a secret identity was about. So, pulling up all of his courage, he slowly pushed himself off the bed. Once he was standing, he reached for the neckline of his suit, cautiously picking the blood-soaked material up. It would be cold by now. Ugh, he wasn’t looking forward to wearing that right now, but he didn’t have a choice, really.

“Stay.”

That one word made him freeze in his motion. One arm halfway down the sleeve, he looked up, mask’s bug eyes big, as he stared at MJ. She had really meant it when she had told him not to leave. He couldn’t believe his luck. This was both amazing and incredibly awkward.

“You are shivering from exhaustion and can barely stand straight,” she pointed out as if that was the most obvious thing on earth. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was at this point. “Webbing your way through the city with a freshly stitched wound, blood loss muddling your brain, and you being tired isn’t wise, Spidey.”

Peter shifted from one foot to the other. She was right. She knew it and he knew it. Didn’t mean that he’d have to like it, though.

“I won’t tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“N-No, that’s not it.” He couldn’t tell her that it would be way too weird and wrong for him to stay. She’d want to know why and he wouldn’t be able to tell her. It wouldn’t be fair. So should he just… stay? In her room? He could sleep on the floor or maybe even on the ceiling. And he’d be gone before the sun would be up. He was exhausted, she hadn’t been wrong about that, and he felt lightheaded and dizzy. All he wanted to do was sleep for weeks, and once he’d had his rest, his healing factor would kick in and he’d be good to go. Really, four hours of sleep would probably be enough to patch him up sufficiently.

Yet, he hesitated. He didn’t know why.

“I won’t pull off your mask either.”

That was it. Defeat and relief washed over him, his shoulder sagged and his fingers let the suit fabric slip out of his grip. “Okay,” he said quietly, eyeing her closely. She seemed to be set in her decision, not regretting it. A smile tugged at her pink lips. “Thank you.” 

He’d be gone before she would wake up. He would tell Karen to make sure to alert him in time. It would be fine.

*~*Spider-Man*~*

Everything had worked out perfectly. At 4:47 am Karen had woken him up gently to let him know that the sun had started rising. His injury had felt loads better and, according to Karen, was now nearly completely healed. He had been fit enough to swing back home, take a shower, and climb into his bed again to get another three or so hours of sleep.

Gingerly, he had let himself roll off the bed. Yes, bed. MJ had insisted on him lying on a soft surface and not the hard and cold floor. _“You don’t need a cold on top of an open wound!_ ” she had said and thus had successfully shut down every single excuse he had been able to come up with in his muddled state. Thankfully he had fallen asleep almost immediately. His masked head had hit the incredibly soft pillow and the next thing he could remember had been Karen softly whispering in his ear.

He had, at first, wanted to leave a note as just leaving without much of a good-bye and thank-you would just be rude, but MJ knew his hand-writing. Her reading him thanking her for patching up his superhero alter-ego would have been a dead give-away. So he had merely allowed himself to look at her peaceful sleeping face, marveling at how her curls had framed her pretty face and had swung home.

The next Monday had been fine as well. MJ had not suspected anything and he had decided against telling Ned just yet. First, he wanted to fully understand what had happened himself, _how_ it could have happened (because seriously, why had he been too slow to jump away from lizard-person’s claws in time? He had to work on his concentration!) before telling someone else.

All of that had been about three weeks ago, he had had various more encounters with the lizard mutant but had had the foresight to inform Mr. Stark in time. One ripped open side had been enough pain to last for several months, so he hadn’t been up to a repeat just yet. 

So here he was, swinging through a nearly sleeping New York, wincing from time to time as his muscles pulled at his stomach. Yes. He had managed to get injured _yet again_. At least he wasn’t bleeding that bad this time. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell, though.

 _“Should I contact Mr. Stark?_ ”

Peter ground his teeth as his feet hit the wall of one of the numerous buildings, ran along its brickwork, only to push off right at the corner, all the while holding onto a thin strand of web securely attached at the edge of the roof. “No, don’t call him, I’ve got this.”

The cool wind felt nice against the thin material of his suit. It helped him to think and keep the pain from overpowering him. It helped him focus. He took deep and even breaths as he turned around corners, swung through narrow alleyways, and hopped over chimneys and water tanks. Yells from pedestrians reached his sensitive ears, but he ignored them as one thought repeated itself over and over again in his mind: He needed to get home. Now. He needed to clean the wound, take a shower, get rid of the evidence, sew the wound shut, and act as if nothing was amiss. Maybe not in that particular order. Anyway. Aunt May might know about his habit of swinging around the city of New York in a tight, red and blue costume, but she didn’t need to know about his… accidents. Incidents. Whatever. She’d never seen the consequences and he’d like to keep it that way.

He cursed himself for even allowing that guy to come that close to him! How could that have happened? He had been busy fighting three dudes who had been molesting a young woman in a dark alleyway, when a fourth guy, one he hadn’t noticed before, had come out of nowhere and had jumped on him. His Spidey sense had screamed at him to duck out of the way, but he had been too occupied with kicking his friends’ asses to keep the fourth guy from swinging a knife at him, slashing open the left side of his belly. He had been attacked and stabbed more often than he’d like to admit, but he had always succeeded in not allowing the knife to dig in as deep as it had done just ten minutes ago.

A yelp, a rapid twist, and a well-aimed punch later, the fourth and last guy had been knocked out and he had been on his way home. “Damn it,” he hissed, glancing down at his stomach. The fabric of his suit had started to darken almost immediately after it had been pierced, the warm stickiness slowly spreading over his entire midsection. 

He put his whole body weight into the next swing, waited until he reached the highest point, and let go of the web. Quickly, he pointed his web shooters at his stomach. He aimed and pressed the small button on his palm, covering the wound in web fluid. That should do until he had a first aid kit at hand. His body twisted into a somersault before his left arm reached out and his middle and ring finger pushed the button to release the next web… only for no web to come out.

Shit.

“ _Watch out!_ ” Karen shouted and Peter looked up just in time to rip up both arms and land on the side of a building. The impact jolted his joints painfully, his muscles straining to take the momentum. Well, that had been a close one.

His heart was beating rapidly as adrenaline flooded his body. “What just happened?” he mumbled, dazed, as he crouched on the wall high above the main street. His lungs were expanding at an unnatural speed as he struggled to get his breathing under control.

“ _Your web shooters were empty of web fluid_ ,” Karen answered helpfully and caused Peter to groan out loud. He had forgotten to refill his web cartridges yesterday! “ _I have reminded you to refill them, but you seem to have forgotten._ ”

He sighed and lifted his mask to rub over his face. “Yeah, I remember.”

“ _Or should I say,_ ” she continued, _“you said something along those lines: ‘_ Ah, Karen, don’t worry, I’ve got everything under c-control (yawn). I know how much is still in there and it’s enough, I just - just want to go - go to.... sleep. ‘m t’red.’” She played a recording of his sleep-deprived past-self as if to pour more salt into the wound.

“Yeah, I remember,” Peter repeated grudgingly, pulled his mask back over his face, and started crawling towards the edge of the house and into the dark alleyway that lay beneath it. He’d have to change out of his suit and back into some normal civilian clothes, and take the subway or - 

His clothes.

He groaned out loud. “I’ve webbed my backpack onto another alleyway wall, haven’t I?” he asked, defeated and so over everything.

“ _You have_.”

Well, shit. Now he would have to walk to the next station, board the subway in his costume, and be greeted by tweets about his bleeding and pathetic self in the morning. This was officially The Worst Day Ever. Capitals and all. This day deserved the capitals!

Annoyed with himself and everything around him, he crawled over to the next landing and crouched on the metal rail. His stomach was throbbing painfully, the webbing slowly turning red as blood started to soak through. He couldn’t believe his bad luck. First the guy with the knife, then his webs, and now his clothes. 

He flopped down, bum hitting the thin metal rail, and allowed his feet to dangle over the edge. He’d just stay here for a few moments, allow himself to breathe, contemplate all of his poor life choices before having to face the people on the subway. He hoped he wasn’t that far away from home, so he’d be able to get it over with quickly. In an alleyway near his apartment, he had hidden a bag with loads of clothes on top of a building underneath some pipes - just for moments like this. No-one could say that he hadn’t had the foresight to hide stuff near his home, but it was still a matter of getting there that annoyed him to no end.

Deep in thoughts, he didn’t hear the soft sound of a window being pushed open behind him. His Spidey sense didn’t alert him as the person scrutinising his back wasn’t a threat to him, but that meant that upon hearing her voice, he jumped so hard that he ended up stuck on the underside of the fire escape of the floor above, staring into beautiful, brown eyes that he only knew too well.

“Hey, Spidey.” MJ smiled (actually _smiled!_ She usually smirked, but right now she was smiling at him and - oh my God - he could feel the butterflies already. Calm down, Parker, you’ve got this) at him and tilted her head to the side. Her curls slid over her shoulder, brushing against her cheek. “Came back to say hi?”

He hadn’t realised that he had accidentally webbed his way to MJ’s apartment again and he wondered why Karen hadn’t said anything about it either. On the other hand, though, he wouldn’t put it past her that she had _purposefully_ not told him to keep him on track. His AI got sneakier and sneakier the more time she spent with him, and he wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing considering that she wasn’t a real person. But this behaviour showed that she was getting to know him and maybe, just maybe, she wanted to push him in the right direction… Which was kind of sweet if you thought about it. Not that he would admit it, though.

A blinking alert popped up on the screens of his lenses, saying, “ _Your heart rate has gone up, Peter. I recommend taking deep breaths to calm yourself down._ ” She had muted herself. That little -

“Sure.” He shrugged nonchalantly, trying to act cool and relaxed. “I was nearby, you know? Thought I might swing by for a little chat. I haven’t thanked you yet for patching me up, so…” Oh, that was smooth, Parker, well done!

“You’re welcome,” MJ replied and leaned against the window frame, her jumper having been pushed up over her elbows. There it was again, that smile! Directed at him! Ned would never believe him when he told him this! “You’re injured again. Aren’t you?”

Peter blinked and looked at her innocent expression. She looked up at him, one eyebrow slowly raising sarcastically as her smile turned into a smirk. She knew him really well already. That was kind of scary if he thought about it - he had spent… what? Maybe two hours speaking to her, or more like letting her patch him up? He hadn’t really been fully conscious the last time he had been here, after all. How had she figured him out already if he himself still had trouble with it sometimes?

“It’s pretty obvious,” she continued as he didn’t react. She slowly moved away from the window and motioned him to follow her. “You’re favouring your right side, so there must be something going on with your left one. Also, you remind me of a friend of mine.” She trailed off and scrutinised him with a sharp gaze as he cautiously climbed through the window, feet touching the carpeted floor with a quiet shuffling noise. “He would do the same thing. Acting all laid-back when, in fact, he is close to dying. Not that he ever has been close to dying,” she hurried to add, seeing him frozen to the spot right in front of her window, not moving one inch, “but if he were, he’d definitely try to hide it. To not worry anyone, you know?”

She shook her head and Peter could see a soft smile tug at her lips just before she turned around and walked over to her wardrobe. She opened the doors, bent down, and retrieved the first aid kit she had used last time.

“Sounds like an okay guy,” Peter couldn’t help but say. She was smiling an awful lot today and he was _dying_ to know what she thought of him. She must have an opinion as she had described him spot-on just now. Considering that they weren’t talking that often with each other at school, MJ mainly following him and Ned around, nose deep in some book or other, it was quite fascinating. And frightening. And that smile! He had noticed that smile before she had turned around. That smile had to mean something, right?

“Yeah, he’s an idiot.”

Oh.

“But one of my best friends.” There was it again, that smile! She walked over to her bed, stopped, and looked at the box in her hand, thinking. Hesitantly, it seemed like, she continued, “I -”

She… _what_? Damn it, what was she about to say?!

“Nevermind.”

 _Ahhh_ , he was losing his mind!

“Let me see your wound,” she said in a tone that made it clear she didn’t want to talk about _her best friend_ anymore. Grudgingly, Peter obeyed and walked over to the bed where she had set up camp. The webbing had soaked through entirely now, looking more like a bloody lump than a makeshift bandage. He pried it off slowly and bit his lip to not hiss at the burning pain coming from the aggravated wound underneath it.

MJ looked at the gash for a moment before turning around and picking up the cotton balls and the disinfectant that Peter had learnt to hate the last time he had been here. “How come people manage to stab you?” she asked chattily, blushing slightly as he pushed the spider emblem on his chest and the upper part of his suit fell off his shoulders, revealing his naked chest and stomach. He had never been more grateful for his abs! “I thought you have, like, enhanced senses or whatever. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you dodge bullets before.”

A defeated sigh escaped him, causing MJ to laugh. “Don’t even get me started,” he groaned pathetically and tried not to move too much as his classmate moved over the mattress and started patting at the wound. He was relatively hopeful that he wouldn’t ruin her bedspread again this time. 

“Oh, _now_ I _really_ want to know.” She grinned deviously at him, which had him roll his eyes at her. Which she couldn’t see, obviously, but still - it made him feel better about everything.

“I just didn’t see the guy, is all.”

Thankfully, she let the topic slide. Maybe it was more obvious that he was peeved about it than he had originally thought. And hoped. She really knew him too much already. This wasn’t good.

“I’m MJ, by the way.”

Peter blinked and turned to look at her. She was focussing on his wound, eyes glued to his side, yet her cheeks slightly darker than normal. “I kn-”

“ _Careful, Peter._ ”

Bloody hell, thanks, Karen! He and his Babble Mouth™ would have nearly ruined everything. Quickly, he changed track, hoping with all his heart she hadn’t noticed his slip-up. “I wanted to ask you that, actually.” 

She didn’t look suspicious. Phew! Close one.

“Nice to meet you, MJ. I’m Spider-Man.” Like the dork that he was, he raised his hand and waited for her to accept his handshake.

MJ laughed out loud and shook her head. “Gosh, you really are like my friend,” she said with a wide grin on her face, put down the cotton ball she had wanted to soak in alcohol, and reached forward to shake his hand. “Nice to meet you, _Spider-Man_.”

“Why did I detect a slight hint of sarcasm there?”

“Because there was a slight hint of sarcasm there.” 

“Oh ok, makes sense.” He grinned at her as her body shook with mirth, his injury all but forgotten.

A comfortable silence followed their banting, just like last time. With MJ it was easy to just _be_. Usually, whenever the conversation would stop, he’d feel awkward and would fill the silence with nervous chatter, but never with MJ. Okay, it could be that she was a person that just didn’t like talking. No, she _was_ a person who didn’t think much about talking, especially if it was only to fill the silence, and for some reason – here, with her, alone – he didn’t feel the need to fill it either. It was soothing. And dangerous. He wasn’t allowed to get _too_ relaxed to forget that she did not actually know him, he officially didn’t know her either, and he was still wearing the mask of the local superhero. This whole thing they had going on was getting more complicated the longer he allowed it to happen, but he couldn’t bring himself to just walk away. This was just too enticing to forego.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Peter looked up from where he had admired the pattern on her bedspread and waited for her to continue.

“Why do you do this? All of this?” She waved her hand around in a sweeping motion as if to force a wasp away from her face. The strong smell of disinfectant followed her movement. “Why do you put yourself in danger on a daily basis just to be attacked by the Bugle? And don’t tell me you do it because you don’t like seeing cats stuck on trees and can’t handle the guilt of leaving them there!”

Peter snickered and allowed her to push him onto his back. She was done with the cleaning by now and was rummaging through the first aid kit in search of a needle and some thread. “It’s not because of the cats,” he said, clenching his teeth as he felt the sharp metal pierce through his skin. “Although they do have a part in it.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“I am.” A wide, shit-eating grin spread over his face, hidden by the mask. For the first time since being mauled by that humongous mutant lizard, he wondered what it would be like to just take it off and grin at the girl of his dreams. Quickly, he pushed the thought away, not wanting to dwell on it. He would regret it. He was sure of it. Well, mostly sure of it, but – _Stop thinking about it!_

“Idiot.” MJ smirked at him, her eyes sparkling with humour.

Idiot. He smiled. Whether Peter or Spider-Man, she always called him idiot or dork without ever meaning it as an insult. For her, he felt like it was almost like... an endearment, and that thought alone sent the butterflies flying again.

“I can’t even imagine what it would be like.” MJ tugged at the thread, cautiously pulling his skin back together. “Swinging through the sky, fighting bad guys and saving people…” She shook her head, a huff escaping her. “Must be hard to live like this.”

Peter shrugged. The soft fabric of her blanket rubbed against his bare shoulders. “You get used to it.”

The tugging at his belly stopped and he turned just in time to see her give him an odd look. “I mean the fighting,” he hurriedly added. _Oh God, please, don’t think I’m an arrogant ass!_ “It’s just what I do, you know? It’s good to have some sort of routine in it, to know what you’re capable of.”

MJ nodded slowly and returned to her stitching. 

Peter swallowed painfully. “Having these powers,” he muttered after a few silent seconds, “it makes you see the world differently. Where I once saw an empty alleyway that housed nothing but a few smelly dumpsters, I now see a potential spot for drug dealers to ruin their clients’ lives or a hiding place for someone just waiting for an unsuspecting woman to walk past. Whenever I hear distant sirens now, I hurry towards them, when back before I got bitten I would have not even turned in that direction.” 

He blinked up at the ceiling. He knew this was wrong, telling her everything, _trusting_ her like this, but he couldn’t stop himself. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and let the words flow. “It changed me on so many levels and sometimes I just want to be normal, I guess. I mean, it would be nice to sleep through the night without having nightmares or constantly being on alert, no matter whether I’m sitting on a rooftop, swinging through the streets, or whether I’m out with friends. I can never truly relax. But…” He opened his eyes and turned his head to the side until he could see MJ looking at him. “I wouldn’t change it, even if I could. Because the things that I can do… it gives me the possibility to help people, to make their lives better, even if it is by finding their lost cats or helping an old lady with her groceries. It gives me a purpose, you know? I have these powers and I use them to help others. That’s what I do and that’s what I’ll always keep doing.”

There it was again - the word vomit. God, he could never just shut up, could he? Aunt May had always told him that once he got going, he was very difficult to stop, and since he knew he could trust MJ since he felt comfortable around her… Well, that only meant he didn’t stop.

MJ stayed silent for quite some time, pondering what he had said. Peter sincerely hoped that he had not come across as an asshole.

“I see.” The soft words drifted through the tense silence like rays of sunlight illuminating a dark room. “I guess I’ve never really thought about it, you know? I mean how your life must have changed through whatever happened…” She scrutinised him, eyes slightly narrowing. “You said you were bitten? By what? A spider?”

Peter winced. He had known that this would come - her picking up the parts that made his Spidey persona, but who was he kidding? He had told her anyway, so he might as well keep going. He trusted her and he knew that she would never use anything that he’d tell her against him or sell any of it to the press. “A radioactive spider, actually.”

“How did you manage to find a radioactive spider?” Confusion was written across her face as she sat there, holding onto the thread that was halfway stuck in his skin.

“Well, _I_ didn’t find it, it found _me_.”

MJ nodded slowly before turning back to his wound. Deliberately, she picked up where she had left off and he could feel the material of the thread pull at his flesh. “Did it hurt?”

Peter let out a bark-like laughter. “Yeah, it hurt like hell!” Involuntarily, his mind brought him back to those few days filled with the worst nightmares, pain, and the burn. Gosh, he remembered the burn. “I felt like my whole body was on fire. The bite itself wasn’t that bad. I guess being stung by a bee would hurt more, but the aftermath was intense.”

He had talked to Mr. Stark about it when he had wanted to know what his new protegee was capable of, and he had said that having his DNA basically rewritten and modified while conscious, on a level that had happened to him… Well, after that conversation he had completely understood why he had felt like he had been dying during those days. Because, theoretically speaking, he _had_ been. Fascinating, really, how that was even possible...

MJ blinked, seemingly surprised by his outburst. Maybe he should really just shut up, allow her to sew his wound shut, and never return ever again. That would probably be for the best. She might never find out he was Spider-Man, so he could focus on his friendship with her and forget that this (he waved his hands around mentally) had ever happened. He could maybe ask her out, first with Ned as an alibi person, and then without. They could go to the movies or on a stroll through Central Park or join a demonstration, and he'd never have to think back to freaking her out while wearing a mask. On the other hand, though, if he really managed to actually not mess up and charm her into being his girlfriend, she’d have to know about his superheroing and that would ultimately lead them back to this moment.

So he was screwed either way.

MJ’s awed voice pulled him out of his panic. Her eyes were focused on his face, expression oddly compassionate. It was weird seeing emotions on her face. Up until now, he hadn’t entirely been sure that her muscles could even show anything except for nonchalance and that deadpan look that he found really fascinating. “I never… I mean,” she cleared her throat and tried again. “I never thought about what must have happened to you to become Spider-Man. I mean, all of a sudden you were there, you know? Swinging around, pissing off loads of people but saving so many. I knew _something_ must have happened as I doubt that you’ve been born like this, but… wow.”

She stopped talking and just looked at him with so much curiosity in her eyes that it frightened him a little bit. Her brain was insanely scary when she made herself think about something in detail, which was, conveniently, what she seemed to be doing right now. And having a thinking MJ sit in front of her classmate that she spoke to on a daily basis think about when he had gotten his powers and ultimately started being present in New York, maybe even thinking of how he, Spider-Man, was alike him, Peter, then… oh, this wasn’t good. 

This wasn’t good _at all_.

She would figure it out. She would figure out who he was and there was literally nothing he could do about it. 

“ _Peter, your heart rate is accelerating dramatically. I advise you to calm down or you might faint._ ”

Yeah, he was already feeling a little faint, now that she’d mentioned it…

“I can’t even begin to imagine how it must be to be you,” MJ said calmly, her eyes sharp. With a last tug, she started to tie off the thread, soaked another cotton ball in alcohol, and wiped over his newly closed wound. “I mean, with the stuff that you can do…” She put the now pink cotton ball to the side and turned back to him, her head tilted slightly to the side. She hesitated for a second before she shook her head and took a deep breath.

And then the questions started. “How do you stick to walls? Or is that just your suit? And who made the suit? Is the webbing coming out of you? What does that feel like? How strong are you? Can you lift a car? Or a truck? Have you tried lifting something heavier?”

Peter blinked slowly, overwhelmed by the barricade of questions tumbling out of her mouth. But before he even had time to digest this uncharacteristic word vomit, MJ held up her hands and shook her head. “You know what? I don’t even need to know right now. Doesn’t mean you won’t have to tell me eventually, but not right now.” _Eventually?_ So she wanted to see him again? As Spider-Man, that was? And she wanted him to tell her how his powers worked? This was both exciting and scary, and Peter couldn’t quite decide whether he should force himself to stay away from her forever (including his Peter-self) or return tomorrow afternoon, climb through her window, pull off his mask, and reveal his identity to her. “You have lost enough blood to paint my walls red during your last visit, so I’m feeling merciful right now.” 

_Gee, thanks._ He didn’t really know what had happened just now, but he was more than happy to accept it. He didn’t want to think about what the right thing to do was, especially because he already knew what the right thing to do was. But the most pressing thing right now was something else entirely. He was tired, his side was aching, and he was still a bit annoyed than he’d have to walk back home. All the way back home. Without webbing. Peter sighed and raised a hand to cover his face. It was probably time to just accept his fate, pull on his suit again, and get on walking. Should he maybe call Mr. Stark and ask him whether Happy could pick him up? Hm, he hadn’t thought of that yet…

“What time is it?” he asked aloud, still in thoughts. Originally, the question had been for Karen the answer, but he didn’t mind when MJ did it instead.

“Just past midnight.”

He felt warm hands press down on his stomach as she taped gauze to his skin.

“Damn it.” No calling Mr. Stark, then. He’d literally have his skin if he found out that he still wasn’t in bed. Well, maybe Mr. Stark would be a bit more relaxed about it than May would be, but if Mr. Stark found out he’d want to tell May, and if May found out she’d be pissed and then Mr. Stark would be stressed and then Peter would be stressed, and it all wasn’t worth it, really, so walking it was.

“And _what_ do you think you’re doing?”

Peter looked up at MJ, who looked suspiciously close to rolling her eyes at him. She was treating him just like his normal, civilian self, and it was getting increasingly more difficult to keep the pretence up that, in fact, he didn’t actually know her, because, in reality, he _did_ know her, or he hoped he did. It was getting confusing in his own head at this point. Gosh, he didn’t have the mental capacity to worry about that anymore! Biting his bottom lip, Peter continued pulling himself off the bed and pushing his arms through the sleeves of his suit. This time he wouldn’t stay the night as he wouldn’t be as quick in leaving as he had been last time. He couldn’t risk it for MJ to wake up and see him walk down the alleyway when the sun was rising. It was both bad for his self-esteem as well as for his image. On the other hand, MJ wasn’t someone who cared much about other people’s reputations (or her own, really), so his self-esteem would be the thing that would suffer the most.

“I hope you’re not planning on leaving with your badly sewn-shut wound.” MJ raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms in front of her chest as she watched him get dressed.

“Actually, that is exactly what I am about to do.” He forced himself to not back down (just now) and hit the centre of his chest, pushing against the hidden button behind the spider emblem. The suit shrunk around his form, tightening around his muscles. It was a welcoming feeling, like coming home. Weird thought, but hey, it was the truth. And it wasn’t like anyone knew what was going on inside his head, right? Right. Well, Scarlet Witch probably could, but she wasn’t here right now, and he seriously doubted that even if she was here that she’d tell MJ. She had more important things to do than sneak around a teen’s head. MJ would probably be able to tell what he was thinking as well, but for that, she still needed his expression to guide her and he was wearing a mask at the moment, so he felt pretty safe.

“And I will repeat myself only once.” MJ walked around him towards the open window to block the exit. “You have just been hurt. You need to rest. What is it with you wanting to risk ripping open your wounds again?”

When Peter didn’t answer, because, honestly, how _could_ you answer that without sounding like an absolute idiot, MJ sighed, sounding defeated. “I know _this_ ,” she waved her hands around, pointing at the generality that was her room, “isn’t something that you do on a daily basis. Well,” a smirk crept onto her beautiful face, “maybe you do, but who am I to judge.” She ignored the indignant grunt coming from the superhero. “But I really can’t let you swing your way home now. Not in this state.”

“I can’t really swing anymore anyway,” Peter blurted out and immediately regretted it. He blamed his tired brain to not filter his words anymore. The barrier between his thoughts and his lips was completely gone, apparently. Gulping, he knew he had just gotten rid of any counter-arguments he might have had up until now.

MJ twitched, head tilting to the side. “Why’s that?” she asked curiously, eyes alert.

“Well,” he scratched his neck as he shuffled from foot to foot, “I ran out of web fluid on the way here. That’s why I ended up at your apartment again. If I’d have had enough left, I would’ve been able to sort myself out at home.”

After a short, confused pause, MJ frowned. “Wait a second. You would’ve actually sewn your wound shut by yourself?”

Peter shrugged nonchalantly, not really bothered by the fact that she had just completely overgone the embarrassing fact that he, Spider-Man, web-slinging superhero, was out of webs. “I do that all the time. It’s not as bad as it sounds, really.”

“Wow.” She shook her head, eyes big and round. “You truly are insane.”

“It’s safer that way,” Peter said and shrugged awkwardly again. What else should he say? Yes, he knew it was insane? Yes, it hurt like hell and he hated it every single time he had to do it? Yes, he despised the fact that he couldn’t ask Aunt May for help and support as he didn’t want to scare her? No, he couldn’t do that.

“It’s _safer_ that way?” MJ stared at him, mouth agape. “How is it safer to stitch yourself up by yourself instead of having someone else do it? Preferably someone who knew what they were doing?”

Peter winced and shuffled from one foot to the other again. Yet another nervous habit of his. Damn, his whole being was full of nervous habits. It was a miracle that nobody had htought of just _looking_ at Spider-Man to figure out who was hiding behind the mask. “I can’t really do that, now can I?”

“Why not?” She looked worried now. That’s what he usually did whenever he opened up about being Spider-Man and everything that entailed - he frightened people. One more reason to just not tell anybody anything more than was absolutely necessary.

But instead of following his own directions, he kept on going. Maybe he truly was insane? Wasn’t one definition of insanity that if you still did something and went through with it although you knew it wouldn’t work? Or was it repeating something that continued to fail without changing anything in the process? Oh, he couldn’t think anymore… “Asking others for help would endanger them. Whoever knows my identity isn’t safe anymore. That’s why I wear a mask.” Among other reasons. “To keep my identity a secret and those that I love safe.”

A silence longer than he was fully comfortable with followed that statement, giving it even more weight and him a moment of awake clarity. 

This was wrong. What he was doing was wrong. He had just said so himself! People who knew him were in danger. Aunt May was in danger because of him and Ned as well. Hell, Uncle Ben died just because he didn’t do anything! Even, although it felt weird thinking it, Mr. Stark was in danger because he both knew his identity as well as supported him in his superheroing. Was he really about to drag MJ into this chaos as well? Sure, he knew her as Peter, he couldn’t and didn’t want to change that, but as Spider-Man he still had a chance.

Could he do that, though? All it would take would be to tell her that he wouldn’t spend the night, that he was thankful that she had helped him yet again, and never come back. Would he be able to do that? He looked past her worried face and out of the window. The brick wall opposite her bedroom was dirty and wet from the rain that must have started some time ago. All he would have to do was walk right past her and leave. She wouldn’t know it’s him, so she wouldn’t be offended by it.

“That’s a lot of responsibility weighing on your shoulders,” she said quietly and successfully pulled Peter out of his spiralling thoughts. “And I would totally understand if you didn’t want to come back here again. N-Not that I don’t want you to!” she hurried to add and a pretty blush darkened her cheeks. “I mean, I like to talk with you, but if you’re worried… I would understand.”

There it was. An excuse. A way out. The exit strategy that he had been looking for. But had he, really? If he was completely honest with himself? No.

Mr. Stark had told him once that he should have more faith in his abilities to keep people safe when it was due. After the ferry incident, it had been more than a bit hard to follow that advice, but he had gotten better at it. He knew when he was in over his head and he knew when he wasn’t, when he was in control of the situation.

Just like now.

He was keeping Aunt May safe and he was keeping Ned safe. He had succeeded in keeping his identity a secret from the world, something that Mr. Stark was helping him with, and even if, for some reason, a random bad guy found out who he was, he’d always have the Avengers he could depend on to help protect his loved ones.

So what did he have to lose? A lot. Everything. But life was full of risks, wasn’t it? He was Spider-Man! He was a superhero, a future Avenger. He had fought against mutant lizards and electrified fanboys and had survived it all. Hell, he had even managed to keep Toomes from stealing all of the secret equipment the Avengers owned, in nothing but a glorified pyjama! If _anyone_ could protect MJ, it was him. Spider-Man. _Peter._

It was a weird feeling, the knowledge of being able to protect his family and friends and on the other hand feeling as if he wasn’t in control at all. His brain and his heart were working on opposite sites, he felt like, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. And even if he could, he wouldn’t. That contradiction made him feel oddly dejected.

The pain radiating from his side was getting less and less the longer he stood there, not moving. Slowly, painfully slowly, he sat back down on the bed, mattress giving way underneath him. His stomach did a flip as he saw excitement and joy lighten up MJ’s chocolate eyes as she let her arms drop to the side. Hurriedly, she turned around and closed the blinds, hiding the brick wall from view.

“You need rest,” she said, back to business, yet Peter still saw the sparkle in her eyes that she couldn’t quite smother. “I don’t want you to rip open that wound of yours.”

Peter bit his lip, nodding slowly. He had made the right decision, hadn’t he?

*~*Spider-Man*~*

It had been a while since he had left MJ’s apartment. He had texted Mr. Stark in the early morning, just before sunrise, and had pleaded with him to send Happy to pick him up. Happy hadn’t been too pleased about having to start his workday at 5 am, but upon watching Spider-Man crawl out of a third-storey window that certainly wasn’t his had made up for it. He hadn’t stopped teasing Peter all the way back to his and Aunt May’s apartment and, to make things even worse, had apparently told Mr. Stark because the latter had called him the next day between his Physics and P.E. class, demanding details. That day, lab work at Stark Industries had been anything but relaxing. He had ended up so wound up that Aunt May had immediately taken out the giant tub of emergency Ben and Jerry’s she stored in the freezer, had handed him a tablespoon, and had not said anything as she had watched her nephew finish the whole tub.

School with MJ hadn’t been as awkward as he had imagined either and he liked to think that he had acted like always. Ned hadn’t said anything the contrary, so he didn’t worry either. Ned would tell him.

Oddly enough, although being Spider-Man kept him busy and exhausted him to the point of him nearly falling asleep on a rooftop near Central Park three days prior, he missed his little trips to MJ’s place. He had caught himself thinking of excuses to swing by. Get hurt again? No, he would never do that on purpose, that was just pathetic. Knock on her window and thank her again for her help? He could have done that the day after his second visit, not four months after his second visit so that one was out as well.

After days of discussing the matter with Karen (no, he hadn’t told Ned yet because, honestly, what was he supposed to tell him? Yes, he fancied her, but Ned already knew that. No, she didn’t know he was Spider-Man. Well, no, he hadn’t decided yet if or when to tell her. No, she most definitely didn’t like him back. Right? MJ was too cool for him. But a man could hope…), he was balancing on the edge of the building’s roof that was directly across the street from where he now knew MJ lived.

And he sat there, day after day, waiting. For what? He had no idea. Well, no, that was a lie and if he would have said that out loud, Karen would have started a whole other discussion again. She loved to motivate him and be the voice of reason and self-esteem. He loved her for that. Sometimes her pieces of advice were a bit… off (“ _According to your body’s reaction every time you are in the close proximity of Michelle Jones as well as my research on the topic of human hormones and feelings, you should act on them. I advise you to kiss her the next time your heart rate starts to accelerate._ ” Yeah, no way in hell was he going to do that!), but she meant well.

Karen was one of the people (an AI wasn’t technically a person, but she felt like one, so she went by that acronym) that he could trust entirely. Karen and Mr. Stark. And Ned. And Aunt May. And… And MJ.

Yes, MJ. He had kept an eye on her (secretly of course; he was Spider-Man, he could be stealthy if he wanted to be) to see whether she would mention that she knew Spider-Man, had saved his life, or even that he had been slowly bleeding out on her fire escape a few months back, but nothing. She had not said anything along those lines, not even flinching whenever someone had mentioned his alter-ego. 

She was such an incredible person that it actually hurt his heart to some extent. He really wanted to tell her _everything_! He knew he could trust her with his life and, in a way, already had done that. And, yay, he was still alive and breathing! His belly was intact and the wobbly scars her mediocre stitching had left behind had vanished after a few days thanks to his healing factor.

So what kept him from actually revealing himself to her? Telling her that the incredible, super awesome, cool, athletic, handsome, charming, funny,... (he was getting distracted and lost in his imagination). Telling her that the enhanced spider-themed superhero most of the city knew and loved was actually him. Peter. The nerd from Decathlon who loved chemistry, physics, and robotics. But especially physics. Would she be able, and willing, to put the curly and pale as f*ck head of the school loser behind the mask of the one guy who fought alongside the Avengers? Or would she be disappointed?

Well, he would never know if he didn’t try… And both Aunt May and Karen said that he needed to stop to think of himself as _not good enough_. And who was he to go against two of the three most important women in his life?

A deep sigh escaped him, alarming the pigeon that had kept him company for the last hour or two into flying off. “I’m really going to do it, aren’t I, Karen?” he asked, voice slightly muffled by the mask he hadn’t dared take off. It was odd. Here he was, thinking about telling MJ that he was Spider-Man, planning on what to say to make things less awkward, and yet he didn’t feel like taking off his mask when nobody would be able to see him. The way his mind worked was puzzling for him sometimes.

“ _Do what, Peter_?” his AI asked, tone innocent and calm. He could always trust Karen to keep a level head, even, or especially when he was freaking out.

“Tell MJ I’m Spider-Man.” _Duh_. Wasn’t that obvious? With the amount of loud, panicked thoughts shooting through his head Karen must have heard at least _something_. The pigeon probably knew. Maybe that’s why it flew away? It didn’t want to have anything to do with the chaos that Peter was about to unleash upon himself.

“ _If that is what you have decided to do, I will wholeheartedly support you._ ”

“Thanks, Karen. That means a lot right now.”

He took another deep breath to calm himself down. He could do this. He had been thinking about this for a very long time now, so it’s either now or never. And _never_ would most likely entail a pissed-off MJ in the end and nobody wanted that. So, with a slight whimper that he couldn’t suppress, he stood up, shot a web to stick onto MJ’s apartment building, and jumped off the rooftop.

Now or never. It would be fine. She would accept him. If not, he’d just never talk to her again and pretend the next few minutes never happened in the first place. It would be fine. Totally fine. Phew, take a deep breath, Parker, just one more storey…

He hesitated as he passed the fire escape above MJ’s floor. He was sticking upside-down to the wall as his limbs just froze. A shaky breath escaped him. Why was he so nervous? He’d been through this before! Ned knew. Aunt May knew. Mr. Stark knew. _Happy knew_! Well. All of them had found out on their own, so, technically speaking, this _was_ his first time actually telling someone voluntarily. That thought didn’t calm his nerves whatsoever. 

“Oh, get a grip, Parker,” he hissed at himself and forced his head to raise again. He had stared at the brick wall underneath his hands obsessively. Narrowing his eyes, eye lenses following his movement, he focused on the metal railing of the infamous fire escape. This was where it had all begun. It was the fire escape’s fault that he was sweating buckets right now. That thought gave him something to focus his frustrated energy on, which, surprisingly enough, calmed him down somewhat.

Quietly, his feet touched the staircase landing right in front of the window he had climbed through twice by now. The shades were drawn, but there was light turned on inside. Okay, she was home. He anxiously shook out his hands, a habit he had grown accustomed to as soon as he had started hanging out with Ned. This was good, actually. He wouldn’t have to wait for her to come home. Not that he hadn’t spent the last two hours on the rooftop across the street. Nobody needed to know that. All he had to do to get her attention now was to just gently knock against the glass pane of her window and wait for her to -

The shade was pulled back abruptly, revealing a suspicious-looking MJ. In a fluent motion, she pushed the window open and leaned outside. “Hey,” she said, eyes shining in the dim light. “Are you planning on coming in anytime soon or should I close my blinds again so that I don’t see a masked person creeping outside my window?”

Peter let out an awkward laugh and scratched his neck. _Now or never_ , he thought agitatedly and hurriedly climbed through her bedroom window before he could rethink everything and leg it in the other direction. Once inside, he took a deep breath and mentally prepared himself for the speech he was about to give, as MJ turned around and smiled at him.

She. Smiled. At. Him.

His brain froze and all of the nervous thoughts his head had held until just now vanished. Why was he here again? “ _Tell her, Peter_ ,” Karen helpfully whispered in his ear. Oh, right. That’s why.

“Are you hurt again?” MJ asked curiously, eyes raking over his body in search of any open wounds he might be hiding. What Peter didn’t notice (what would have both given him an immense boost in self-esteem as well as nervousness) was that her gaze rested on certain parts of his body longer than actually needed - his chest, his upper arms, his stomach,... his legs.

“W-What?” Peter stuttered before shaking his head rather aggressively. “Oh, no. No, I’m not injured.” Gulping, he prayed for all of the spider gods there were in the universe to stay by his side and gave himself a push. “I came by to see you.”

“Oh?”

He was standing in front of the still-open window. A cool breeze brushed against his back. Flinching, Peter remembered that he had left it open as The Smile™ had hot-wired his entire brain. He quickly turned around and pushed it closed. It wouldn’t do him any good to have any random passers-by to hear his confession. This was nerve-wracking enough as it was...

“Well…” Suck it up, Parker! “I wanted to tell you that -” You’re really pretty, I like you a lot, I haven’t been honest with you, this is stressing me out, I hope you won’t hate me because of this, I’m really nervous, I really like your jumper, your hair looks really pre -

“You’re Peter.”

Peter blinked. “What?”

MJ shrugged, a hesitant smile tugging at her lips. “I’ve known for a while now.”

Flabbergasted, Peter gaped at her. He didn’t know what to think. She’d known all along? She had known all this time and hadn’t told him and had watched him fumble around and… “B-But why haven’t you told me?” he stuttered and, without even thinking about it twice, reached up and pulled his mask off his head. He heard her gulp as her heart rate accelerated.

“I figured you’d tell me eventually. You know… When you’re ready.”

Wow. She had known he was Spider-Man, had acted all ignorant and innocent when they interacted at school and had still insisted on him staying overnight after patching him up? All of that without even batting an eye? She was either a total psycho, a bad-ass, or… His stomach somersaulted even allowing himself to think this. Could this mean that she actually liked him? Like… liked liked him? The way he liked her?

He swallowed down a manly squeak that threatened to make itself known. This was beyond what he could fathom at this point and his brain had long since given up working. So all he could do when MJ took the first step forward was to blink owlishly and force his breathing to remain even. As even as it could be because, frankly speaking, he was feeling kind of lightheaded and one quite probable reason could be that he wasn’t getting enough oxygen into his brain. Meaning his breathing was off. But that was just a guess.

She came to a stop right in front of him and slowly reached for his hand. Her eyes silently asked for his permission which he gave by letting go of his mask. Slowly, she turned it in her hands, feeling the material, and looking at the lenses. He couldn’t help but notice the mesmerised look on her face and felt a spurt of pride shoot through his system. “This is weird,” she said softly as she blinked up at him. She was _so close_ right now that Peter could see every single lash that framed her beautiful eyes. 

“W-” He cleared his throat. “What’s weird?” His voice sounded oddly robotic. He was having an out-of-body experience because there was no way in hell that this was actually happening. Was he dreaming? Maybe he was dreaming. He really wanted to ask Karen whether he was dreaming, but Karen was living inside his mask and that mask was currently being scrutinised by a very fascinated MJ and he couldn’t really take it away from her right now without coming across as a total jerk, so he’d have to just accept it all and… comply. Go with the flow. Breathe through it all. Yes. Breathing sounded good right now.

“This.” She gestured at him with the hand that wasn’t holding onto the mask like it was a priceless object that could break at any moment. “Here you are after I’ve sewn up more wounds than I’d ever thought I’d see in my life, calmly ( _Calmly_? Absolutely _nothing_ was calm about Peter at that moment and he felt that he needed to MaKe It VeRy ClEaR ThAt He WaS cLoSe To _PaNiCkInG_ ) standing in my bedroom, letting me know something that might and most likely _will_ put me in danger.” She tilted her head to the side slightly, eyes narrowing. “How come you’ve decided to tell me?”

She was right. He had told her that he kept his identity a secret to protect those he loved, hadn’t he? But before he could even bring his brain to form some resemblance of a bad conscience, let alone connect his vocal cords with his mouth long enough to form a proper and intelligent response, he was pulled back to the present by the most beautiful sound he had ever heard - a soft giggle.

He hadn’t even known MJ could giggle.

“You know what? I don’t care.” A grin so wide that it metaphorically as well as literally blinded him spread across her face, turning her into an MJ he had never seen before. He couldn’t help but grin back at her.

They just stood there for a few seconds, grinning at each other like maniacs until Peter let out a relieved laugh. He couldn’t believe that all the stress that he had gone through worrying about what might happen if he were to reveal his identity to MJ had been for nothing. He should have known from the start. She was an amazing and trustworthy person that, even though insulted people from time to time (okay, not from time to time but on a daily basis, but she meant it as endearments, so he didn’t mind), was worthy to tell. He really should have gotten his courage together earlier and should have just gone for it. Maybe his Parker Luck™ had actually felt bad for what it’s been doing to him for the last few months?

Now, looking at the girl of his dreams standing right in front of him, her eyes trailing over his face and coming to a stop where his lips were, he could feel more butterflies in his healed belly than when he dived off of a building.

His eyes fluttered closed as her warm lips touched his and a sigh escaped him. Man, he couldn’t wait to tell Ned about this. He would freak out!


	2. Sleepy Spider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damn, Peter was tired. With that he meant TiReD! Not just tired, but tired tired. That also meant that his brain was focused more on staying awake than on important things like... scheduled tours or... say... press conferences...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy reading!! I have an idea for the next one-shot already, so stay posted!

**Sleepy Spider**

Peter sighed as he pulled himself out of the car. He was exhausted. Downright bone tired. He was so dead on his feet that he couldn’t even bring himself to be excited about today’s workshop session. Which was a big thing because Peter _loved_ tinkering, especially if he could tinker with one of his favourite adults in the whole world - Mr. Stark. He both admired as well as adored the man and having the opportunity to watch him work and be at his side and learn from him was something so special that it felt like the first time every time he set his foot into that workshop.

The workshop itself looked more like a weird mix of garage, living room, and an exploded hardware store. It had everything and when Peter said everything, he _meant_ everything. No matter what you wanted, you’d be able to find it in there. And for the rare occasions that that wasn’t the case, it could easily be built from scratch with the stuff stored in the room. So, to put it simply: It was heaven on earth.

Even today it was heaven on earth. Peter felt the familiar tingle of excitement course through him as he mumbled a thank-you to a scowling Happy and trudged his way towards the entrance of the Tower. He could feel the adrenaline try to force itself through the wall of tiredness, but it didn’t succeed in reaching the surface. It was rare that he was tired. Well, no, that was a blatant lie. He needed to rephrase that - it was rare that he was _that_ tired. He was tired nearly every day now, but that never stopped him from (literally) jumping onto and off the walls in excitement when Mr. Stark let him design and build new upgrades for either the Iron Man or the Spider-Man suit.

He adjusted his backpack on his shoulder and tapped his foot as he impatiently waited for the elevator to arrive. He hadn’t even noticed that he’d literally walked through the entrance hall, past the security checkpoint, and over to the spot where you could choose one of the five elevators. Damn, he really needed more sleep. Mr. Stark always told him so, he knew that. Karen did as well. Sometimes (who was he kidding, it wasn’t just _sometimes_ , it was always) she turned into a mother hen. It was very endearing. If you didn’t think about the fact that Karen was his AI. Oh, and May, of course. She was probably the first person to tell him that. Actually, now that he thought of his aunt, one of the conditions he had to agree on for her to allow him to move into the Tower had been him not putting Spider-Man before everything else - especially when it came to schoolwork and his health. In that order. If he could still hold his grades, everyone was happy and didn’t ask any questions, so if he managed to answer a question in class while practically sleeping, everything was good.

So, yeah. He wouldn’t even manage that by now, so, thinking like the responsible person that he was, he should probably not go out tonight and stay indoors for once. Out of his suit and on the humongous couch in between all of the other Avengers. Oh, did he mention that already? Yeah. He was an Avenger now. Wasn’t that wicked?! Yeah, he knew. Trust him, he knew! He still couldn’t believe it! Every time he heard the team’s name on the news or overheard someone talk about or even mention them he was ready to flip. 

Sure, Mr. Stark had offered him the position three years ago already, but back then he had fully believed it to be a test. A test to… well… test Peter. To see whether he was capable of choosing and doing the right thing, which, back then, had been staying close to the ground and looking out for the little guy. Or at least he had thought so. He had found out by accident that that actually hadn’t been a test in the first place and that the reporters Mr. Stark had mentioned right after offering him the position had _actually_ waited behind the door. He hadn’t really been able to react much when Clint (hehe, that’s Hawk-Eye. Yep, he was on a first-name basis with the Avengers, WASN’T THAT WICKED?! Phew, he felt light-headed just thinking about it...) had blurted it out after Peter had been introduced to them officially for the first time. He had just stood there, stared at the archer, and had forgotten to breathe. Mr. Stark had nearly had a heart attack that day, at least according to him, but considering that the billionaire was a very dramatic person, Peter figured he had been just fine. Now, him on the other hand… 

No, he hadn’t been fine. Like. At all. The first thing that had happened was overwhelming confusion. Then, once his brain had registered that the team had remained calm and nobody had started to laugh, the panic had set in and it had felt as if his brain had been melting. No, he wasn’t overly dramatic. Well, yeah, okay, maybe a little bit, but his neurons had fired at a speed that had made him dizzy, and he had actually had to sit down after the living room in which they had all been standing or sitting had tilted to the side slightly, which was an unnatural thing for a living room to do, so it must have been him tilting and not the room itself. Which made sense because, after all, he had felt insanely dizzy at that point.

So, that day had been an experience, but suffice to say - it definitely broke the ice. Clint couldn’t stop teasing him, Natasha couldn’t stop teasing Clint, Bruce had tried to calm everyone down, and Steve had just sat on the couch, rolling his eyes. He was an Avenger, with everything that position entailed.

A soft and melodic _ding_ pulled him back to the present and alerted him that he had reached his destination level. Feet dragging over the wooden floor, he slowly made his way through the corridor and all the way to the workshop, a distance he usually covered within like two seconds, but that was when he was relatively awake. Which he wasn’t at the moment, so he took his sweet time. Shortly, very shortly, he considered turning down another hallway that led to his room to stash his school things and maybe pull on some comfy clothes, but… meh, he couldn’t be bothered. He’d probably also fall asleep right away as soon as he saw his bed. That’s what you called conditioned behaviour.

“About bloody time!” a voice behind the door shouted and, before Peter could do anything more than stop his slow shuffle, the metal door flew open and revealed a disgruntled Mr. Stark. “What took you so long, kid? Fell asleep on the way here?” He raised one brow, eyes slightly worried behind the coloured glasses. He blinked as the usually bubbly and hyperactive spider teen merely sniffed, dropped his backpack right where he was standing, and shuffled around his mentor into the cosy workshop. “You actually look as if you are still asleep.”

As soon as he reached his worktable, Peter dropped onto the chair with a heavy sigh. DUM-E, his favourite bot, rolled across the room and beeped happily at him. Its claw was tilted upwards and, ever since Peter had stuck googly eyes onto it, it looked even cuter than before. Mr. Stark had groaned loudly as Peter had proudly presented him his upgrade. One of his best as of yet if he said so himself. The robot might be a bit overenthusiastic when it came to anything remotely dealing with fire, but it was a source of light in the sometimes dull and exhausting days of - Okay, he was getting very melodramatic and slightly poetic here. He didn’t think he liked the latter. All he needed was a good night’s sleep and that was it. And because his brain was so preoccupied with self-pity and the general grouchiness of a tired teenager, Peter didn’t notice his mentor creeping up on him until it was too late. A loud yelp escaped the young superhero as he flinched so hard that he tumbled right off the chair, all the while Tony Stark stood next to the now vacant chair, looking highly confused.

His mentor didn’t do anything except shake his head in a slow motion that looked too deliberate to not be planned. “What happened at school, kid?” he asked quietly. He had once been the sole witness of a tiredness-induced sensory overload and Mr. Stark had seen a lot of messed up shit, but _that_ had topped it all. First, he hated seeing vomit. Second, he hated said vomit to be spread across his furniture. And third, he hated seeing Peter in pain. He’d do anything to not have him go through that again, so, whenever he detected a certain level of exhaustion in the kid, he lowered his voice, the lights, and the number of fumes wafting through the workshop. Just to be on the safe side.

“Nothing,” Peter mumbled and pulled himself into a somewhat standing position again. “I’m just tired, is all.”

Mr. Stark’s eyes narrowed. “How much sleep did you have lately? And don’t lie to me because I _will_ ask F.R.I.D.A.Y. and she will tell me the truth anyway, so don’t even waste your energy.”

A deep frown crept onto the teen’s face as he looked up at his mentor. Peter could feel the blush even before Mr. Stark could see it. “I didn’t plan on going out on patrol tonight anyway,” he defended himself before the billionaire could do more than open his mouth, also successfully answering his question while not answering it at all. “I will stay at home, watch a movie with you guys, and go to sleep early. I promise.”

Mr. Stark raised an eyebrow and watched the twitching superhero for a bit longer before he exhaled loudly and shook his head. “Yeah, that sounds like a solid plan, kid,” he said and ruffled Peter’s curls. The teen was so exhausted that he didn’t do more than scowl adorably. “You know that May calls me twice a week to ask what you’ve been up to because you don’t call her enough.” He sent Peter a reproachful look that yelled ‘You are dragging me into this and I do not approve’, but the teen didn’t see it as he had set his eyes on the ‘I <3 Iron-Man’ mug that was still half-filled with lukewarm coffee.

He felt a fuzzy warmth spread through his body, starting in his belly. He had bought that mug for Mr. Stark two years ago as a joke gift for Christmas. Back then, he had thought it was hilarious and had figured that Mr. Stark would laugh it off and put it into the very back of the cupboard in the kitchen that housed all of the glasses and mugs, but his mentor had started using it on Christmas Eve immediately after unwrapping it to drink Rhodey’s signature hot chocolate. With cinnamon. Rhodey put whipped cream, marshmallows, _and_ cinnamon on top of it and it was - Oh, God - it was heavenly! Ever since then it had been his go-to mug for his coffee, the rare occasions he had tea or hot chocolate, and sometimes even if he wanted a sip of water. And Peter loved it.

Cap and Pepper teased Mr. Stark about it from time to time whenever he threw a fit when he caught someone with _his_ mug, but Peter had to admit that the “Don’t you dare touch that mug with those filthy hands of yours! Give it to me! Give it - Where are you going? _Come back here, Clint, you son of a - COME BACK HERE!_ ” was quite entertaining to watch. One time, he had allowed his mentor to rope him into a stealth mission in which the goal was to crawl through the vents silently to spy on their fellow Avengers to find out where Hawk-Eye had hidden the mug. At first, they had tried to get F.R.I.D.A.Y. to do the spying, but she had refused, sounding oddly amused by the whole situation. Yet another reason why Peter seriously doubted that the AI wasn’t secretly a human sitting in front of a microphone, laughing her ass off.

“Yeah, sure, go ahead and drink my coffee without asking, I don’t mind whatsoever.”

“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” Peter answered hurriedly, hand reaching for the mug before having uttered the words, and gulped down the bitter liquid. He didn’t hear the frustrated sigh as he exhaled sharply and allowed himself to drop back onto the chair again. Ew. That was disgusting. He coughed dramatically. He never drank coffee and that just now had reminded him of the reason. Well, no, that was wrong. The main reason was that Mr. Stark had banned him from ever drinking or smelling coffee, even if it was just the aroma that some people put into food to make it taste fancier than it really was. Peter had a thing when it came to energy levels that weren’t quite normal. 

The first time he had tried coffee during a movie night with Ned had him literally stuck on the ceiling without being able to release. He had just been… stuck. So he had hung out (quite literally) above Ned for the rest of the night, all the while buzzing with pent-up energy that hadn’t had a release. The following morning, he had gone on patrol to let off some steam. His brain and muscles were tired because he hadn’t slept for over twenty-four hours, yet his cells were practically vibrating. So, after he had stopped three thefts, one kidnapping, and one shooting, he had literally fainted in a tree, stuck between branches while he had tried to convince a cat to not climb further up a tree to get away from him.

Having seen the pictures of him between the leaves the next day in both the news as well as on Twitter and any social media that existed on this planet, he had decided to never drink coffee again. Ned had tried to get him to drink an energy drink once so that they could binge through the entirety of the Star Wars movies, but he had kindly declined, ending up falling asleep on the couch midway through ‘The Empire Strikes Back’. It had been an exhausting week; don’t judge him.

So his pride told him that he didn’t drink coffee because he didn’t enjoy it. Which was true. Totally true. It wasn’t because Mr. Stark had first made it his personal mission to print out the pictures taken of Spider-Man asleep in a tree and handing them out to random SI employees as well as decorate every free surface of the penthouse with them for him to see. He had even taped one onto the inside of the toilet seat cover! Peter had had the worst shock of his life as he had lifted the lid and had seen himself, mask slightly askew, showing the skin of his neck, hanging in between three branches, looking even less cool than he was in his civilian life. And a bit hungover, not gonna lie. After he had had his fun for a week, Mr. Stark had told him to never touch the beverage again, and Peter had wholeheartedly agreed.

Until now. Because right now he was so tired that he had to fight unconsciousness. But he could feel the dreaded buzz of the caffeine flood through his body, so he shook his head, sending his locks flying, and rubbed at his eyes. “Okay, I’m awake now!”

“Yeah,” Mr. Stark drew the word out into a loooooong syllable to show just how much he believed the young superhero at that moment. Peter couldn’t help but snicker. He didn’t take the other’s snarky side very seriously, not anymore. He found him quite funny, actually. “Well, now that you’re among the living again,” he continued, going back to business, “I need to tell you something.” Mr. Stark took the mug out of Peter’s hands and couldn’t swallow the loving smile down entirely. “I told you last week already, but I figure you’ve forgotten by now.”

“Hey!”

The billionaire ignored Peter and sniffed. “I want to first say that this wasn’t my idea and that Pepper is making me do it.”

“ _Theoretically speaking, Miss Potts_ is _your boss, boss_ ,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice came from the ceiling with an amused undertone in it.

Mr. Stark glared up at the lights. “This is _my_ company, F.R.I.D.A.Y.!”

“ _Technically speaking, Sir, you are the owner, yet Miss Potts is the CEO, meaning she makes all of the relevant decisions_.”

“Backstabbing AI,” the mechanic muttered, ill-tempered, causing Peter to grin. “Anyway,” he said in an extra loud voice, “what I wanted to say was that there will be five individuals that will be led through the halls of _my_ building,” he shot a glare at the ceiling, “and they said they want to meet you.”

Oh, right, the charity drawing of children and teens in need, who could use some cheering up. Pepper had explained it to him some time ago as she had been about to introduce the idea to the board of SI. She wanted to polish and improve the company’s reputation by inviting a few teenagers who had suffered through a blow of fate lately to give them something to look forward to and enjoy. On the application form, the kids could put down the name of one person (Avenger or not) who they would love to meet one day.

Peter would have put Mr. Stark’s name on the form, still would until this day. He hadn’t really thought much about any other options, because who _wouldn’t_ want to meet Iron Man?! He was _the_ superhero, he was an incredible person, and - Wait. They wanted to meet - 

“ _Me_?” Peter stared at him with wide eyes.

“Yes, you, squirt.” Mr. Stark winked at him, causing Peter to turn bright red. “I don’t know why anyone would want to meet a scrawny little seventeen-year-old, but hey, who am I to judge?”

“ _Hey_!”

The billionaire laughed at the indignant outcry of his mentee. “Believe it or not, some people actually look up to you.”

Peter bit his lip. It was a weird thing to think about. Not that he hadn’t thought about it once or twice before. How could he not have if he had kids come up to him on a regular basis to give him pictures they had drawn themselves or thank-you cards? Honestly, that was his favourite part of his job - seeing that what he was doing actually helped people. So he made it a point to hang on to every single scrap of colourful paper he got gifted. First, he had put them all in an old shoebox, but soon he had had to upgrade. Now he owned seven albums and those housed letters and cards that could easily fill at least seven more. Mr. Stark hadn’t said anything when he had asked for more binders. He had simply nodded up to the ceiling and later that day, Peter had found a whole stack of them on his bed.

“Oh, and speaking of people wanting to meet Spider-Man…” Mr. Stark picked up his mug and walked over to the little kitchen located at one of the walls of the workshop. It was one of those handy installments that the mechanic loved and Pepper hated since it allowed him to just stay in his workshop for hours on end without having to go to the kitchen to get something to drink because, who was he kidding, Mr. Stark didn’t drink anything other than coffee. Bleh. “Don’t forget about the press conference on Sunday.”

Damn, he had completely forgotten about that one! That was the thing with the stupid Accords - if you wanted to do good on a big scale, you needed to be an Avenger. If you wanted to be an Avenger, you needed to sign the Accords (now improved and less restrictive, thank goodness). If you had to sign the Accords, though, the government needed to know your identity. Signing a legally binding contract with a made-up name just didn’t work, so, if the government knew his identity, there wasn’t any reason left to not let everyone else know. That way he _knew_ that the bad guys knew and could ensure the protection of his family and friends. If he weren’t to show his face to the world, the bad guys could still find out who he was since after having signed the Accords, more people than only the Avengers and his friends would know who he was. That way, someone could sell that information to the highest bidder and he’d only find out when it was too late. He wouldn’t risk that.

So, after multiple long discussions with Mr. Stark and May, he had decided that it would be best to reveal his identity under his conditions. And since Mr. Stark was involved, that meant Stark Industries style. Meaning a press conference. An official SI/Avengers press conference that would air on Sunday, 11 am, worldwide. Ah. He really hoped that he wouldn’t fall back into his nervous stutters. Imagine. A stuttering Spider-Man. No-one would believe that he was telling the truth. 

“Right…” Peter said slowly and randomly picked up a piece of a web shooter that he had tinkered with the day before. It was lying in between other scraps and parts of either the Spider-Man or the Iron Man suit since he had left in a hurry the day before. The ordered pizza delivery had arrived early and he had been excited. And hungry. _Very_ hungry. “I totally forgot about that.”

Mr. Stark leaned against the workbench of the kitchen, refilled mug in his hand. After a while of just watching the twitching teenager (the caffeine had started to work, Peter could feel it), he took a deep breath, worry lines evident on his forehead. “We can still cancel the conference, Pete,” he said softly as he walked over to where Peter was hunched over the work table. “We don’t need to tell anyone who Spider-Man really is.”

Peter shook his head quickly. “No, we have to.” He looked up at the man he thought of as a father. “We have to.”

“No, we don’t!” Mr. Stark slammed his mug onto the metal table, coffee sloshing over the sides. “I don’t care what Ross says. I don’t care what the bloody _president_ says! All I care about here is you and if you are uncomfortable with that decision, we change it. We fix it. That’s what we do. We fix things that need to be fixed.”

Peter blinked back the tears that had sprung into his eyes. He loved it when Tony let him know what was important to him and (although he would never say it) he loved it when he saw how much the man cared for him. It made him feel all sorts of things. “It’s fine, Mr. Stark,” Peter said softly, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Really. I mean, sure, this is scary as f*ck (“ _Language, Peter._ ” Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y.), I mean, I’ve always stayed incognito and in two days literally the entire world will know that I’m Spider-Man, meaning that Flash will also know it, now that I think about it…” He trailed off, thoughts focussed on the school bully.

Wow. Today had been the last day that Flash hadn’t known that he was Spider-Man. Flash’s favourite superhero was the guy he constantly made fun of. Ha, he couldn’t wait to see his face when he found out! Well, technically speaking, he wouldn’t see Flash’s face, as he would be standing on stage at the SI Tower in New York City, and Flash would most likely sit at home and stare at the television or phone or laptop or whatever he would use to watch the press conference. And watch it he would for sure, that Peter knew. Why did he know that you may ask? Well, Mr. Stark had made sure to have the PR department of SI announce that the identity of their newest member would be revealed and everyone who loved superheroes would know that Spider-Man had joined the team last. Also, Spider-Man was the only Avenger whose identity was still a secret, so Mr. Stark had added that piece of information for dramaturgical reasons only, he figured.

So, yeah. No. They couldn’t cancel the press conference. Not again. No, he wouldn’t get sucked back into the embarrassment that _The Test_ ™ had been.

Mr. Stark blinked at Peter but continued to wait (im-)patiently for him to return to planet earth. His brain was too busy thinking about multiple things at once, so him spacing out happened from time to time.

After a few seconds, Peter shook his head quite aggressively, sending his curls flying. “Anyway,” he said and cleared his throat. Mr. Stark raised his eyebrows, still standing in front of his mentee’s table. “We discussed this quite thoroughly and I know that May and Ned and MJ won’t be in danger. I know that if I join the Avengers on a full scale, I will be able to do so much good, and I know that I will still be able to help the little guy in NYC. So, sure, yeah, it’ll be scary, especially in school, but I’ll manage. It’ll be fine. Right? Yeah, yeah, yeah, it’ll be fine.”

Skeptically, Mr. Stark kept watching Peter. “You don’t sound very convinced, though,” he said as he frowned at the pale teen. 

Peter shrugged and put down the web shooter wrist band. “I’m nervous, is all. I mean,” he added as he saw that his mentor still wasn’t convinced, “who wouldn’t be? I’m not good at speaking in front of people, especially if those people are actually focused on me. I had to give a presentation in front of my English class once and it was terrible! I forgot how to talk, kept using words like ‘bader’ instead of ‘worse’ or ‘gooder’ instead of ‘better’, it was a disaster. I mean - who does that? I do. When I get nervous. And I start to stutter. I’m not good with words, so having cameras pointed at me is a big deal for me.”

“You seem to be fine whenever a random reporter gets a hold of you on the streets, though.”

“Yes, but then I’m in costume and there’s usually a maximum of maybe ten people around. And they can’t see whether I blush. Which a room full of reporters _will_ on Sunday and that will make me even more nervous and I’ll blush even more and then I’ll stutter even more and then I’ll make a right fool of myself and it’ll turn out to be the most horrible day in my life and the whole world will laugh at me.” Peter puffed out a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding and sucked much-needed air back into his lungs immediately. “I’m just nervous. But you will be there and the rest of the Avengers will be there and I’m sure it’ll be fine. Because you will be there,” he ended lamely. 

Dang it, he really needed to think of a cool way to end his sentences. May would say to just stop talking once he was done saying what he wanted to say, but that was easier said than done. Peter rambled when he got nervous. A room full of reporters that were recording and sending live was one of the things that would make him nervous. Hell, it was making him nervous _now_ , two days before the actual event took place! So, a bunch of excited reporters plus a nervous Peter equaled rambling, which equaled being uncool. _So_ uncool. Even Ned had told him once, and whenever Ned said something like that… Dude, it was serious.

Mr. Stark blinked. “Wow, kid. There are a lot of thoughts jumping around that curly head of yours, aren’t there?”

Peter grumbled something incomprehensible as an answer, which caused the billionaire to chuckle. He walked around the table that had still separated the two of them and put a warm hand on his mentee’s shoulder. “First thing you need to do is to take a deep breath and calm down. I’ve been in more press conferences than I care to admit and if there is one thing that I’ve learnt, it is that whenever it gets too much, you can just get up and leave. It doesn’t matter whether it is because of the situation being too overwhelming or your senses acting up - you can just leave the room. The reporters will be there because they want to know what you have to say. If you don’t feel comfortable saying much at all, you don’t have to. No-one will force you to. You’ll be the one in control. By all means, if all you feel safe doing is stand on the podium, pull off your mask, and grin into the cameras, that’s fine by me. Lord knows the reporters will be having a field day if you decide to do that. Those doe eyes melt everyone’s heart. So, either Pepper or I can do the talking. Maybe even Cap? I wouldn’t choose Clint, though, you can’t trust him with stuff like that. He might want to take a mick out of you and the reporters may actually believe that idiot.”

He squeezed Peter’s shoulder slightly and the teen felt his heartbeat calm down. He hadn’t noticed how worked up he had gotten during his panicked rant. “Just say the word and we will sort everything out. Trust me, Peter, you won’t make a fool out of yourself.” He tilted his head to the side, waggishness sparkling in his eyes. “Unless you decide to take along one of your Lego sets and start inviting reporters to join you in building it. That might cause them to look at you a little funny.”

Peter whacked his hand against Mr. Stark’s shoulder (lightly, so he wouldn’t hurt the man. He didn’t want to start bruising people around him, who did you think he was? Pfft!), who had started to cackle insanely. Yeah, he’d be fine. He had Mr. Stark by his side and his mentor would make sure that he would not come across as the loser he felt he was. Yet he couldn’t help the little twinge of worry crawl into his belly as he watched Iron Man double over and wheeze. 

Ah, he’d be fine.

*~*Spider-Man*~*

Later that night, after having eaten seven burgers, Peter let himself fall onto the incredibly comfortable couch in the living area of the penthouse. 

Before he had moved in, Mr. Stark had had him over every other weekend for workshop time and movie nights. The first night he had been invited, he had slept in a guest bedroom, but only because he had felt really bad when Mr. Stark had told him that he indeed had a bedroom at the Tower because he was welcome at any time. Peter hadn’t been able to deal with the flood of emotions that had threatened to drown him then, so he had opted for the guest bedroom designed in neutral colours - tan carpet, dark brown wooden furniture, dark brown curtains with a fancy tan, almost golden pattern on them… and a humongous TV. It hadn’t felt sterile at all, it had actually been quite comfortable, although Peter wouldn’t have chosen _brown_ as a colour theme. Seemed like an unlikely colour to actually look good, considering what was brown in nature, but he had to remedy that opinion as soon as he had set foot into the room.

Later he had found out that all of the five guest rooms had different colour schemes - brown, blue, green, red, charcoal grey; no light grey, which would have been the obvious choice for a bedroom that was supposed to be liked by dozens of guests. But that particular tone of grey reminded Mr. Stark of hospital rooms, and who wanted their guests to feel like they were staying at a hospital? No-one with their sanity intact, so brown it was.

The visit two weeks later, though, Peter had come to terms with the fact that Mr. Stark (and the rest of the Avengers, if he was completely honest with himself, which was difficult because _come on_ , the _Avengers_!) had quite literally adopted him, he had agreed to let his mentor show him his new bedroom. Which he had done with great pleasure. Actually, Mr. Stark had probably been more excited than Peter had been and that, in and of itself, was a right feat!

His room (Oh. My. God. He had his own room at the Tower! The place in which the _Avengers_ were living! Well, now he was living there as well, but he was still freaking out from time to time, especially if he caught himself just watching everyone. It was too insane to grasp, really.) was incredible. Mr. Stark had made sure to choose a very subtle red-and-blue theme, which (although it might sound a bit much) actually looked amazing. Peter loved it. The main colours were grey (yes, he knew) and a very, very light grey that would look like white if Peter wasn’t able to literally see every single pigment in a colour, and the red and blue were used as very tasteful accent colours to highlight… well… highlights in the room. Which there were many of. Too many to list here. Mostly because Peter had a habit of finding even more on a daily basis, and he had been living there for a while now.

A big sigh escaped the teen as his body hit the cushions of the couch. This place was heaven on earth. So many soft, comfortable pillows and blankets, warm air making it impossible for him to freeze (and he was freezing almost all the time ever since the spider bite)... So nice.

“Which one should we watch today?” Clint’s voice pulled Peter back to reality, just in time before something heavy landed in his lap. A breathy groan escaped him as a sharp elbow dug itself into his stomach. 

“ _Oof_.”

“Oh, sorry, didn’t see you there.” Hawk-Eye’s smirk was so wide that Peter scowled at him but didn’t deem him an answer. If he would, he’d just give the archer even more ammunition and Clint with ammunition was deadly. Both on the battlefield as well as during the weekly movie night. You wouldn’t want him as your enemy, so Peter didn’t mess with him if he knew he’d lose. Now if he had Black Widow on his side, though...

“I want to watch Transformers,” Natasha said, lounging on the other side of the couch. She wasn’t paying Peter and Clint any attention. Come to think of it, she was the best in ignoring the archer. Probably since both of them were spies. Maybe it was a spy thing - ignoring each other? You probably needed to do that on a daily basis if you were spying as a spy as no-one was supposed to find out that you knew the other spy in the room. Yeah, that made total sense.

“I’m game.” Sam let out a loud sigh and plopped down next to Peter, also ignoring the man still digging his elbow into the youngster's stomach. “I haven’t watched that series in ages.”

“What’re we watching?” Peter twisted around to see his mentor stroll into the living room, a big bowl of popcorn in his arms. He winked at Peter and motioned him to shoo Clint away so that he could sit there.

“Off you go, birdie,” he said to underline his protégé’s unsuccessful efforts to get rid of the archer. “I want to sit next to the kid, so bugger off.”

Without checking whether Clint had removed all body parts from Peter’s vicinity, Mr. Stark plopped himself down onto the fluffy couch, sinking into the cushions right next to his favourite teenager. As soon as the man was sitting, Peter reached for the deliciously warm popcorn, grabbing a handful. He loved popcorn and Mr. Stark knew that, so, every time they had their movie night, he’d make an extra big bowl, so Peter could eat, eat, and eat some more. He stuffed the treat into his mouth and started to chew, resting his head on his mentor’s shoulder. If he were to look up at that moment, he would see Mr. Stark’s gentle smile, but he didn’t, as he was busy grabbing some more popcorn.

The booming sound of the intro music echoed through the large room as Clint snuggled in next to Natasha, chewing on some nuts that she had brought to the couch. Sam and Rhodey leaned back, and Steve crossed his legs in a very dignified way, his cup of hot chocolate in his hand. 

After a while, Peter stopped reaching for the popcorn as he felt his eyes get heavy. He hadn’t had much sleep lately and as he wasn’t going on patrol tonight, he allowed himself to sink further into the softness of the couch and the warmth of Mr. Stark and closed his eyes. He was intent on staying awake, he just wanted to rest them for a while. They were burning quite intensely, which, Peter feared, could lead to a headache, which then could lead to sensory overload. It had been a while since he had had any issues with his dialed-up senses, but he didn’t want to risk it. He sighed softly as he heard the first whirring sound of an Auto-Bot turning into its real robot form. He really liked those movies. His favourite bot was Bumblebee, the adorable whirring yellow one that had a real personality. Okay, every bot had its own personality, but you had to give it to him - that moment in the first movie when Bumblebee peed on that ass from that secret government organisation? Dude, that was hilarious! The other bots were cool too because… Okay, he had to admit that alien robots turning into cars was a bit lame, but they were cool aliens and -

His thoughts slowed down and without noticing, the darkness had overtaken him.

*~*Spider-Man*~*

Tony felt Peter’s head get heavier and heavier with the minute, and he knew even before looking at the teen that exhaustion had won and he had fallen asleep. Soft puffs of warm breath escaped his slightly parted lips as Peter sighed in his sleep. The mechanic couldn’t help himself but feel his heart melt at the sight. 

The boy meant a lot to him, and even though he would never admit it to anyone but himself, he thought of him as the son that he had never had. He hadn’t had a great childhood. Sure, his mother was loving and had a heart of gold, but even she couldn’t fill in the spot that his father had left vacant. Because of that he had always had commitment issues, never really wanting to bond with anyone or let anyone see what was going on on his inside. When he had recruited Spider-Man, he hadn’t thought much about the future. Back then, the important thing had been getting Cap to see reason and Tony had been willing to do anything to get him to calm down again - and that had included wrapping a fourteen-year-old into a fight of adults. Yeah, he knew, it hadn’t been his best decision, but if he hadn’t chosen to endanger Peter, he would never have met the boy, so he couldn’t bring himself to really regret anything about it. And without him noticing, Peter had come over once a week at first, then twice a week to work on something or other in his lab, before Tony had missed him when he wasn’t there and had asked him to spend his first weekend at the Tower, which then had led to giving Peter his own bedroom, and the rest was history. The teen had wiggled himself into his heart with those damn doe eyes and cheeky grin and horrible science puns. It was Peter and Peter was family.

He hoped that he was as important to Peter and Peter was to him, but he wouldn’t want to force anything. He was content with just resting on the couch, letting his son (yes, he’s said it, _his son_ ) use him as a pillow and just enjoy his life for once.

“Is he asleep?” Natasha whispered. Tony turned to see her look at Peter, warmth clear in her eyes. The spy had adopted Peter as soon as she had set her eyes on him. She insisted that it was just spiders needing to stick together, but Tony knew better. She adored him and Peter adored her. Well, _everyone_ adored Peter, so no surprise there. It was hard not to like the boy.

“Yeah,” the billionaire whispered back, careful not to jostle too much. Peter needed the rest. He had been literally dead on his feet and it was a miracle that he hadn’t fallen asleep while walking yet. Tony slowly raised his right arm and wrapped it around the teen’s shoulders, pulling him just a tad bit closer. Pale hands jumped up and grabbed onto Tony’s shirt, holding it tightly. He didn’t see the knowing grin finding its way onto literally everyone’s faces, as he was busy watching his kid.

“Did you remind him of the tour tomorrow?” Nat asked softly, not wanting to disturb anyone - neither Peter nor the rest of the Avengers who had gone back to following the plot of the movie. Someone had to watch it if the kid had fallen asleep ten minutes after they had put it on and Tony and Natasha’s eyes were focussed on the teen.

“I did,” Tony said and looked up. “He forgot about it.”

A silent laugh shook her body. “I knew he would forget about it.”

“He didn’t forget about the press conference, though. Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if he did but just didn’t want to admit it. Still, I’m not gonna lie,” Tony turned back to Peter, raised his hand and let his fingers card through his soft curls, “he seemed very nervous about it. I mean, he wants to do what’s right, of course, he does, he’s Peter, but I can’t help but feel like he feels pressured to do it. And I want it to be his choice. I want _him_ to want to tell the world who is protecting New York and the world whilst hidden behind the red mask. I want him to do it because he feels like it’s the right thing, not because it’s needed, you know what I mean?”

For a while, Natasha didn’t say anything but studied the man in front of her. After a few moments, she took a deep breath and slowly shook her head, eyes imploring. “Stark, I don’t think that you’re looking at this objectively enough. No, please let me finish.” She raised a hand and prevented the mechanic to speak up and defend himself. 

“It has been his decision, not yours. Sure, he needs to have his identity out in the open in order to sign the Accords and fully join the Avengers, but he doesn’t need to tell the world who he is. You said it yourself when the kid told us - your legal team made sure that only those who absolutely needed to be there would see Peter’s face and know his real name. It’s been Peter, and Peter _alone_ , who said that he wants the world to know. He has his reasons, Stark, and he has thought this through thoroughly. He knows what he’s doing. I would have done the exact same thing if I were in his shoes.” She reached forward and squeezed the man’s shoulder, silently offering her support. “You need to push back your dad-side and look at it with your business-man-and-strategist side. You know that he’s doing the right thing. It’s your feelings towards the kid that makes you want to protect him and shield him from the world, but you won’t always be able to protect him, and you know that. He’s an Avenger, Tony.”

Tony blinked as Natasha used his first name. She rarely used it, usually only to mock or tease him, but with the way she was looking at him, he knew that she couldn’t be farther away from teasing right now. “I know,” he mumbled and took a deep breath. “It still doesn’t make it easier knowing that.”

“I can imagine, but you have to try. Sure, he’s your kid, everyone knows that here, but he’s also a superhero. One, I might add, with incredible powers and a heart of gold.”

“Yeah,” Tony said softly, eyes on his kid again. “That’s Pete.”

*~*Spider-Man*~*

“ _It is 10 am, boss. You wanted me to remind you one hour before the contest winners arrive to get dressed so that you would look presentable for the ‘_ damn little squirts _.’_ ”

His own voice boomed down from the ceiling.

Tony groaned loudly as he heard the disembodied voice echo through the lab, shortly followed by his own. His AI was learning and taping snippets of conversations that she could later use to underline her announcements. Sometimes he loved it, sometimes he hated it. Today was one of the latter days. No-one needed to bring up that Peter loved that part of her programming. Of course, he did, that little shit. He loved everything that could be used to make fun of the mechanic, and that was the only reason why he wasn’t even _thinking_ of changing her code.

But, God dang it, he really didn’t want to guide children through his place! The only child that was allowed in here was Peter and he was still asleep on the couch upstairs in the penthouse. He hadn’t had the heart to wake him up last night after he had fallen asleep. After having watched the first three parts of the Transformers series and he still hadn’t woken up, Tony had carefully extracted his arm from around the kid’s shoulders and had gently laid him down on the soft sofa. Back when he had bought all of the furniture for the new Avengers base, he had put special focus on comfort, meaning that the sofa in the living room was just as comfortable as any of the mattresses he had bought for the bedrooms. Natasha had sneaked a pillow under Peter’s curly mob of hair and Tony had successfully tucked him in, pulling the soft blanket all the way up to his chin. He loved tucking the kid in and he regretted that he couldn’t do it as often as he wished, but the kid was nearly of age now, so it would just be weird for him to actually _like_ being tucked in. That didn’t keep Tony from doing it anyways when Peter was unconscious, though. When he was unconscious, he couldn’t complain, so Tony made the best of those moments.

“Thank you, F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” he muttered dejectedly and pulled himself out of the chair he had spent the last five hours on. He really didn’t want random kids creeping around his place, but Pepper had told him that if he wouldn’t do it, she’d never cover for him ever again. That meant that he’d have to go to the freaking SI meetings himself, and _hell_ no, he wouldn’t want _that_ to happen. Those were so infuriatingly _boring_. So he had chosen to spend his morning with kids. It was Pepper’s fault, really. She had been the one thinking that he as well as SI needed a bit of a reputation boost, so here he was. Trudging through the Tower towards the elevator to take him up to the penthouse.

A soft ding announced his arrival and the elevator door swiftly opened. He didn’t waste any time, as he knew he would do so enough when forcing himself into a suit and out of his comfy lab clothes, and strode into the living room. The area was empty, as the rest of the Avengers were either down in the basement, sparring in the gym, or out on missions. Tony was the only one who had busied himself doing something other than sweat, namely fiddle with Nat’s Widow Bites until he could solve the problem of why his suit, when called, didn’t slow down before zooming right into his crotch. Well, Tony and Peter, who was still peacefully sleeping on the couch, in the exact spot where they had left him last night, or early this morning.

His soft, curly hair was all over the place, standing up in peculiar angles. His cheeks were a soft pink, calming Tony’s nagging thoughts. He was always worried about the kid being too cold, as, just like spiders, he couldn’t thermoregulate properly. At least he could to some extent, but the part of him that was distinctly ‘spider’ made him freeze more easily. Thank God, he hadn’t gone into hibernation mode yet, as either Tony, May, or MJ were always around to yell at him when he started to shiver. 

Tony bit his lip as he thought of his kid’s girlfriend. Michelle Jones was both loving and kind, as well as hella frightening when she wanted to be. She had quite literally kicked Peter’s arse often enough for Tony to give the young lady his full respect. She knew the teen just as well as Tony and May did, maybe even a tad bit more, and she was so loyal that the mechanic didn’t have any worries about leaving the two alone. Not _too_ alone, for obvious reasons; he either made them leave the door open or remind Peter that F.R.I.D.A.Y. would be there if he needed anything. That was more than enough to get him to blush a deep crimson, yell, “Mr. Staaaaaaaark!”, and hurry after his girlfriend, who, by then, had usually reached the teen’s bedroom.

He loved messing with Peter, but Peter loved messing with him just as much, which would sooner or later end with him having a heart attack or losing all of his hair. Because the greying process was already in full swing and he solely blamed Peter for that.

Carefully, as to not make any sudden noises the enhanced teenager would hear and categorise as a threat, Tony moved over to him and gently pulled the blanket further up towards his chin, smoothing it down lovingly. A soft sigh escaped Peter as he snuggled further into the fluffy pillow.

 _“Fifty minutes, boss,_ ” F.R.I.D.A.Y. whispered from the ceiling, having scanned the room and detected the sleeping Avenger on the couch.

Tony nodded towards the ceiling, not daring to answer. With a last look at his kid, the billionaire took a deep breath and forced his feet to move out of the living room and towards his and Pepper’s bedroom. The sooner he got himself dressed, the more time he could spend to mentally prepare himself to deal with the children, and maybe, just maybe, they didn’t have that many questions and he could send them on their way early. 

As he pushed his arms into the sleeves of his suit jacket, he remembered what Pepper had put on the form - all of them wanted to meet Spider-Man, who, as of now, was peacefully sleeping next door, without a suit or mask, cuddled into a fluffy blanket. Tony blinked at his reflection. What should he do? Should he wake Peter up? No, the boy needed the sleep desperately. He didn’t want to be the reason for yet another day of Zombie-Peter shuffling through the hallways and dropping things in the lab. Or kitchen. Steve would get very annoyed if Peter were to drop yet another carton of orange juice. Tony inhaled slowly, not entirely sure what he should do. In the end, his AI took the decision out of his hands.

“ _The contest winners have arrived and are waiting for you in the lobby, boss._ ”

“Tell them I’m on my way.” And with a last tug on his tie, he strode out of the bedroom. He’d let fortune decide - if Peter were to wake up in time, F.R.I.D.A.Y. would remind him of the tour. If not, tomorrow would be the press conference in which Spider-Man would reveal his identity to the world. If a few random kids saw the superhero’s face one day early, it wouldn’t kill anyone.

Except maybe Peter’s self-esteem, but Tony would make sure that the kid would be more embarrassed about being caught sleeping on a couch than being caught without his mask on. He was too adorable.

*~*Spider-Man*~*

“And this is the end of our tour through SI,” Tony said, hoping desperately that he sounded cheerful and not as exhausted as he felt. Mentally exhausted, that was. Dealing with children, no matter how old, wasn’t something that he was comfortable with. They had sticky fingers and wanted to touch everything. The stickiness changed the older they got, but the touch-y thing didn’t. Sometimes, he felt that it got even worse the more their brains developed. “I hope you’ve enjoyed your day.”

That was it. They were standing in front of the large window that made up one wall of the penthouse. Pepper had forced him to bring the kids upstairs and show them where the Avengers hung out. No private rooms, of course. No baby, child, or adult that wasn’t an Avenger was allowed in their bedrooms if they weren’t acquainted with at least one of the team! Thankfully Pepper hadn’t wanted them anywhere near the bedrooms, either, so that was that. Looking at a vast couch that filled the whole, humongous room, though, seemed safe enough to give the kids something to feel special about. After all, no-one had ever set foot into the penthouse. Except for the Avengers and their families, that was. So you could imagine the pure excitement as Tony had led them to the elevator and had told F.R.I.D.A.Y. to bring them up to the penthouse. They had looked nearly as excited as Peter looked when he set foot in it, and he lived here.

He had to admit that ending the tour in front of the window in their living room had been a genius idea. They could see half of New York City stretching out in front of them, as well as the tiny dots, moving through the streets down below like ants scurrying to their burrow. It was an amazing view, one that Tony had learned to appreciate as soon as Peter had started spending more and more time here. It was weird how much the kid had changed the way he looked at things. Spending time with him made him realise just how fascinating the little things could be - like the view of New York at their feet with its citizens moving through the streets. Not that New York was ‘a little thing’, but you get what he meant. Peter just had that thing about him that made you appreciate life. Speaking of...

“Do you have any questions?” he asked, sincerely hoping that they would shake their heads negative and be on their way. But no such luck. He bit back an annoyed sigh as a girl with red hair timidly raised her hand.

“I have one, Sir,” she said softly. As his eyes focussed on her, a blush that would put any tomato to shame coloured her cheeks. “First I want to thank you for the opportunity you gave us by visiting the SI Tower. I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say that today has been the best day of our lives.” The other kids nodded eagerly, bright grins lighting up their little faces. If Tony didn’t want them to leave, like, _now,_ he might actually find that endearing, but no. The only person that was endearing in this household was still snuggled under the huge blanket, lying behind the unsuspecting teenagers, and even he wouldn’t _ever_ find out that ‘endearing’ was part of Tony’s vocabulary. Forcing himself not to look at his protégé, Tony blinked at the girl, knowing _exactly_ what she wanted to ask. “On the forms, you gave us a slot where we could put down the name of one person that we wanted to meet, and I - I mean - _we_ have hoped to actually meet him.”

The girl seemed to be the spokesperson of the group, as the others were nodding along just as eagerly as before, maybe a little more excited at the prospect of meeting their hero. Before Tony could do more than smirk, she inhaled sharply and, eyes glowing, she asked, “Can we meet Spider-Man, Sir?”

“Meet Spider-Man, huh?” Tony chuckled as he thought back to what face Peter had made when he had found out that there were people who actually worshiped and wanted to meet him. Probably ask for his signature while they were at it. Tony wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. Peter on the other hand would be and it would be the most hilarious thing to witness.

The billionaire could imagine the kid’s reaction perfectly - big, horrified eyes, a dark blush on his cheeks, and a choked squeak that forced its way out of his throat. Later, the young superhero would deny something like that had ever happened, but Tony would know better, as he would have proof to show around and embarrass his kid even more. He had a trusty AI on his side and said AI just _loved_ to take pictures and videos of Peter. The mechanic would love to say that it wasn’t because of the way he had programmed F.R.I.D.A.Y., but… Well… It was the way he had programmed her. He still liked to believe that the AI liked Peter anyway, because who _didn’t_ like Peter? That’s right. Someone like that didn’t exist, and if they existed, Tony didn’t want to know anything about them.

“If you’d look behind you…” he trailed off, smirk getting more pronounced the longer the teenagers stared at him, clearly thinking he was trying to trick them. He raised his eyebrows and nodded, which seemed to have been enough encouragement, as first the red-haired girl and then the rest of the bunch turned around and froze.

In front of them on the couch, they could see a bundle of blankets that were moving slightly in the slow rhythm of someone breathing. A mop of brown, curly hair peeked out from under the blanket, resting on the soft fabric of the fluffy pillow. Peter wasn’t facing their way, his face turned towards the back of the couch, which, in hindsight, had been the only reason why it had taken the kids so long to react the way they had, eventually.

Before Tony could do anything other than wince, all five of the chosen winners opened their mouths and screamed on top of their lungs. The girls started jumping up and down, grabbing each other’s hands excitedly, whereas the boys jumped from foot to foot, not able to remain still. Thanks to his super-hearing, which Tony might have not added to his calculations (oops), Peter woke up with a loud yelp and catapulted himself out of his blanket castle straight onto the ceiling, where he sat, crouched, and shifted in a fighting stance, ready to take on what- or whoever had interrupted his peaceful rest.

When Tony saw his kid’s big, panicked eyes as his alert gaze jumped from one person to the other, coupled with his horrendous bed hair and the red mark where his cheek had been pressed against the pillow, he cracked up so badly that he couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. Peter’s breathing was erratic and coming in fast, shallow puffs, as his eyes zoned in on his mentor. Understanding slowly caused him to gape at the still screaming teenagers in front of him, as he realised that, first, today was the tour Tony had dreaded, and second, he had just been caught _sleeping_ by a bunch of people around his age, no less, who thought he was cool.

Peter glared at his mentor (which, apparently, wasn’t scary at all, at least according to the billionaire, but that didn’t keep Peter from trying to look threatening anyway), who was wiping tears out of his eyes, all the while trying to figure out how he could retract his hands and feet from the ceiling to greet the excited bunch underneath him. Like the cool hero, he was.

Problem was… He was stuck.

*~*Spider-Man*~*

“I can’t believe you would do something like that to me!” Peter whined loudly as he and his mentor stood in the lab a few stories further into the building. It was the next day. Peter had survived the awkward encounter with his fans (Oh God, he actually had fans; it was both exciting and oddly humiliating. He wasn’t a cool person, really, he wasn’t! What those kids saw in him was beyond his imagination) and, hours after they had left, still excitedly chatting to each other, Mr. Stark had managed to calm him down by allowing him to tinker on a repulsor from the Iron Man suit. That didn’t mean he had forgotten about the whole ordeal, though! Oh, _hell_ no, he’d never forget that disaster! He had been stuck on the bloody ceiling, for crying out loud! AHHHHHH, WHY?!

He glared at his mentor, trying to look intimidating. His cheeks had excited red blotches on them, his eyes were bright and big, and his curls were literally everywhere from having run his hands through them time and time again (That was a nervous habit of his. Well, _one_ of his nervous habits, but still. He couldn’t get rid of it. He had tried and it hadn’t worked. So he’d given up trying. Aunt May said it looked cute, seeing him in such an ‘adorably dishevelled state’ - her words, not his - so he had decided to just take a deep breath and accept that he would never be threatening and would forever stay his ‘adorably dishevelled’ self. Ugh.). In conclusion, Peter was pretty sure that he looked just as insane as he felt right about now.

“ _Why_ would you just let me sleep? Couldn’t you have woken me up before leading a group of teenagers into the room? Weren’t you supposed to - I don’t know - _support me_?” He threw his hands in the air and gestured wildly. Which probably made him look even less in control. Nevermind, don’t you dare judge him! “You have a weird way of helping me keep my secret identity, Mr. Stark.”

The mechanic snickered at the teen’s obvious embarrassment. He seemed just a bit too amused by the whole scenario of ‘Hey-let’s-all-laugh-about-Peter.’ “Don’t worry about it, Underoos,” Mr. Stark said, only to be interrupted by a loud and frustrated groan. The grin that spread across the man’s face was way too happy in Peter’s modest opinion. “Those kids signed an NDA before I even let them catch sight of the elevators. Well, their parents did, but that’s basically the same thing. Parents are responsible for their children, and all that jazz. Besides, you’ll tell the world who Spider-Man is in exactly twenty-eight minutes anyway, so why stress about it?”

Peter froze. “ _Twenty-eight minutes_?!” he squealed loudly, his eyes getting bigger as his heart rate accelerated if that was even possible. He felt like he might faint at any moment. Oh, God. Twenty-eight minutes. The press conference. He couldn’t believe that he not only forgot about the tour but also about the press conference! _For the second time_! The one situation in which he, Peter Parker, would tell the world that he was Spider-Man. He had overheard Pepper tell Mr. Stark that she had invited over fifty different newspapers, news channels, news magazines,... Peter hadn’t even _known_ that there were so many independent news agencies, let alone fifty of them! And that didn’t mean that the agencies had only sent one reporter each. And if the conference was to start in just under half an hour, then they would probably all be waiting for him in one of the conference rooms that Mr. Stark had walked him past a couple of years ago with the words, “Ah, don’t worry about them, there’s only boring stuff going on behind those doors,” so Peter had absolutely no idea what they looked like and whether there were hidden doors that led directly to the front of the room, or… Was there a stage? Would he need to be standing at a podium on a stage in front of over fifty people? What had Mr. Stark said again, how many had signed up to attend? He’d forgotten. How could he forget something as important as that?

Adrenaline made it possible that all of those jumbled, panicked thoughts rushed through that dishevelled head of hair in less than ten seconds. “What do I wear?” That was the first question that tumbled out of him as he blinked at his mentor, panic clear in his brown eyes. He felt totally overwhelmed. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. He didn’t know whether they wanted him to say something. Wait, had Pepper told him to prepare a speech? Oh, God. Dread filled his stomach as he gulped. What if she had and he’d just forgotten about it? What if he would stand in front of all of those reporters that had the permission to stream the whole thing live for the whole world to see and he’d just stare at them and say something stupid like… like… Oh hell, he couldn’t even think of an example! It was that bad! He was screwed. He was _so_ screwed, he might as well just cancel the whole thing.

Meanwhile, Mr. Stark stared at his protégé as if he had lost his mind. Which, if you were to ask Peter, would most likely be the case. The chance was high. Very high, in fact. He was close to losing it. “Did you seriously just ask me what you’re supposed to wear?” The billionaire pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting for composure. “What do you _think_ you should wear? You suit, of course! I don’t care which one - either your normal one or the Iron Spider, whichever is more comfortable.” Those words, although answering the teen’s question, didn’t do anything to calm him down, so Mr. Stark took a deep breath and decided to quickly walk him through what would happen. 

“Put on your mask and once Pepper has greeted the reporters and given them a short summary of what you have done so far in your superhero life, what the Avengers stand for, she will announce that Spider-Man is the newest member of the team. Which should already be obvious for people who have a functioning brain, but things need to be announced officially still. I never understood it, but hey. Who am I to complain? She will then wave you forward, you greet everyone, take off your mask, say your name, and be done with it. It’s no big deal, Peter, really. Pepper will be there, I will be there, hell, even the rest of the _team_ will be there.” 

Sure, Peter knew he was a worrywart. Even worse than Karen but triggered in situations that, unlike Karen, didn’t need that much worrying energy, really, at least if you believed Mr. Stark and Aunt May and Pepper and Karen and F.R.I.D.A.Y. and, hell, probably everyone on the planet. Objectively speaking, bleeding out on a random roof of an apartment building was more worrisome than some press conference that would be handled by other people, but Peter didn’t see that, of course. _Of course,_ he didn’t. If Peter had known all of that, he might have been able to take a calming breath, but Mr. Stark wasn’t the most comfortable man when it came to… well… comforting. Still, Peter knew he was doing his best. “You don’t have to give a speech, you don’t even have to stay on stage” - so there _was_ a stage! Ohhhhh… he felt sick - “for the entirety of Pepper’s speech. For all I care, I’ll pull you into the room seconds before she announces you as part of the Avengers, you pull your mask off, say hi, and leave again.” Okay, that sounded doable. He could do it. Yes, he could and he _would_ do it. It wasn’t like anyone would really care afterwards, right? Right. “Really. Don’t worry about it.” See? Even Mr. Stark thought so, so it _had_ to be right. “They will be happy with everything that they’ll get, as this will be the story of the month for them.”

_...AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!_

That had been the wrong thing to say and Peter could feel all blood drain from his face. What would his friends say? No, wait. Ned and MJ already knew. What would his _school_ say?! His classmates? His teachers? He wouldn’t be able to go back to school, would he? Peter took a deep breath to calm himself down a smidge. Mr. Stark’s voice pulled him out of his panicked thoughts and his enhanced eyes zoned in on the man immediately. “You won’t be on your own, Peter,” he said and put both hands on his shoulders. Their warm weight grounded the teen and made it easier for him to think clearly. Of course, he’d be able to go to school afterwards. Sure, things would change, but he had known that when he had decided that this was what he needed, and wanted, to do. “We’re a team, remember?” 

Yeah, that he did remember. He’d never forget that. “So, off you go. You have fourteen minutes left to get dressed and be back here in time.”

“ _Fourteen minutes_?!” Peter yelped, whirled around, and sprinted down the hallway, nearly crashing into the wall before he could take the turn that would lead him into his bedroom.

Mr. Stark rolled his eyes, a fond smile on his face. That kid was pure chaos. He wouldn’t have him any other way.

*~*Spider-Man*~*

Peter bit his lip, fingers squeezing the flexible material of his mask. He was standing in front of the closed door that would lead him directly onto the stage and thus into the focus of every single person in that room. The last - he quickly checked the clock ticking away on the wall to his left - twenty-nine minutes and twelve, thirteen, fourteen seconds had been spent trying to calm down and breathe. 

Once he had managed to get his suit on, Karen had greeted him cheerfully. She had been part of why he wasn’t hiding in some random vent right about now. He was Spider-Man, damn it, and Spider-Man was a superhero and an Avenger and he was cool and strong and funny! And people looked up to him. So, he figured, all he needed to do was to try and focus on those people - the teens that he had met the day before, the little boy who had handed him his (halfway eaten) ice cream cone, which had been a sweet gesture, but also slightly disgusting. He needed to think of the happy grin and the teary eyes of the girl for whom he had bought a balloon after hers had sneaked its way out of her grasp and flown into the air, where even he hadn’t been able to reach it. He needed to think of those who he had helped and who gave him enough motivation and a purpose to go back onto the streets and do whatever he could to _help._

If he were to do that, then he’d be just fine. At least that’s what Karen had told him, showing him recordings of his patrol experiences, reminding him once again that she saw _everything_ and that she made sure that _everyone_ could see what he did if they just begged Mr. Stark for access. Which, at first, had helped him calm down his rapid and unhealthily fast heartbeat, but had accelerated it again once he had remembered that teeny, tiny bit of information his brain hadn’t deemed important enough before. _Ahhhhh_...

“You will do just fine.” Mr. Stark’s voice pulled him out of his reveries. He blinked and tore his gaze away from the clock. On the other side of the door, Pepper had just finished summarising what the new and approved Accords stood for. “Try not to worry too much. You won’t be alone in there.”

Peter nodded quickly and took a deep breath. Yeah, he’d be fine. If Mr. Stark said he’d be fine, he’d be fine. He had to believe and trust his mentor. Phew. Was it always that warm in here? And kinda stuffy too… Huh. Did F.R.I.D.A.Y. turn off the AC? But before Peter could wonder more about that (or crawl into the vents to check, and never come back out), he heard Pepper’s voice get louder.

“And without further ado, I’d like to introduce to you the newest member of the Avengers. Ladies and gentlemen, please give a big applause for _Spider-Man_!”


End file.
